In Pieces
by scarylolita
Summary: After an accident that resulted in the death of a dear friend, Kyle and Stan went their separate ways. Now in grade eleven, the two boys are forced to work together, giving them the chance to repair what has been broken. Slash, Style.
1. KB: A resolution

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**I killed Kenny again. Sorry~~ **

**Kyle –**

* * *

Kenny died a year ago.

We didn't know it at the time, but he was the glue. He was the one who kept us all together. It's kind of ironic when I put it into perspective. I used to think he never spoke much, and when he did it was often just to add a perverted comment here and there. Looking back on it, I can recall the smaller things. The way he'd put everyone else's happiness above his own, the way he was always watching us. It was like everything he did, in some strange way, was for us.

Without him, things changed. Many of us fell apart and grew apart.

We're in grade eleven now, and I haven't spoken to Stan in a long time. A few weeks after the funeral, we had a fight. It's what really led to our falling out. The blame was tossed around, mostly in my direction. I couldn't deny the part I played in it, though I tried. I think I just wanted to make myself feel better about it.

Kenny was never careful. He was always impulsive, reckless, and too damn altruistic for his own good.

However, he saved my life and I think I owe it to him to make something of myself.

We had just started grade ten. It was a normal weekend, a weekend just like any other. We were jay-walking because the cross-walk sign always takes too long.

It was nearing five o'clock. Traffic hour was approaching. Cartman ran first and Stan followed shortly after.

"Hurry up, guys!" Stan called at us from the opposite side of the street.

"Yeah, Kahl, don't be a little pussy!"

I didn't want to. Jay-walking always made me nervous, especially jay-walking on these twisty roads. There is no way to see if cars are coming or not. You just have to listen carefully, and listening was something we didn't do. So I hesitantly began to cross and Kenny followed after me.

There was a car and I froze. I know that sounds stupid, but that's what happened. I just stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the oncoming car until I felt two hands give me an incredibly rough shove. I went flying towards safety while Kenny was hit by the car and went flying in another direction.

The car came to a screeching halt and the poor driver almost cried, but I know it wasn't his fault, he could've have seen us coming. We were just dumb kids doing dumb (and illegal) things.

I got up off of the ground and ran over towards where Kenny was lying. He was broken and bloody. I knew it wasn't going to end well, but still I promised –

"Kenny, we'll fix you up!" I said, putting my hand on his chest.

"Don't worry about it," he whispered, putting his hand on top of mine and shutting his eyes.

"Kenny, no!" I screamed, "Keep your eyes open! You have to keep your eyes open!"

He just smiled.

He fucking smiled.

And then he stopped – the whole fucking world stopped.

"Kenny?" I said his name. I kept repeating it, begging for him to wake up, but he didn't.

He was soon taken away and we were asked questions. I was in such a daze I couldn't answer any of them. Stan and Cartman had to do all the talking and that was that.

Everyone's lives continued – except for Kenny's.

I still can't help but blame myself.

Cartman told me it was my fault when he called me, "Killer." I almost prefered him calling me Jew.

The cops told me it was my fault when they told me, "You shouldn't have jay-walked."

The paramedics told me it was my fault when they asked, "What happened?" and I had to tell them he did it to save me.

My parents told me it was my fault when they yelled, "You should have used the cross walk!"

Stan told me it was my fault when he said, "You killed Kenny."

So, maybe, it was my fault after all… and sure, I'm sad, but I'd never throw away what Kenny did for me.

Already one whole year… It doesn't feel like it's been that long yet. I've been bottling this all for a year.

I didn't make a sound throughout the entire funeral. I didn't cry and I didn't speak. I couldn't. I just stood there feeling numb. My mom had her hand on my left shoulder, while my dad had his on my right. Ike held my hand and it was like they all thought I was going to fucking fall apart.

_"…We now commit Kenneth McCormick's body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life…"_

I walked home afterwards. My parents tried to force me into the car but I wouldn't get in. I just took the long way home and then fell asleep in my bed without even taking my funeral attire off.

I didn't want to be awake. I didn't want to think about what happened. I didn't want to think about the person I would never see again. I didn't want to think about all the things I could have done differently to have prevented it from ever happening. I didn't want to have to face my friends.

I found Stan praying one night, back when we were still friends. It reminded me of something Kenny once told me: "We pray when we feel helpless." I wonder if he still prays. I asked him about it, but he only got angry. I never asked again.

It's too late for crying and apologies. Apologies can't bring the dead back to life and neither can tears, so I try so damn hard not to cry about it.

But I think that is when I realized running was the perfect distraction. I joined the track team in the middle of grade ten, shortly after Kenny died.

When I'm out on the field, panting and determined, there really isn't anything else I can think about apart from crossing the finish line or setting a new record for myself.

* * *

It's biology class.

Stan is in the back row with Wendy. I can hear them whispering and laughing quietly to each other. I have half a mind to turn around and tell them to shut up but I could never bring myself to do that. If I was to speak to Stan, he would probably just give me this airy look and I'd feel fucking ridiculous.

Stan's the star quarterback of the football team. He plays with Cartman, but I don't see them interact as much as they used to unless they're out on the field. Even then, they don't talk about anything important. It's just tossing the ball and game play. Clyde and Token are also on the team. Stan grew closer to them after dropping me. I don't think either of them has ever been particularly fond of me.

Wendy and her friends are cheerleaders, but they still treat me well, unlike the football team. I think it's because they pity me.

It's all pretty stereotypical. Cartman spends most of his time with Butters. He also can be seen enjoying himself while taunting Tweek and Craig for being "fags" for each other. Cartman and I still talk. Well, I guess it's still mostly arguing… among other things.

I'm not particularly popular or important around here, but I guess it's fine because I don't care too much about making a reputation. Reputation is only what people think of you – in the end it doesn't say a thing about who you truly are.

I'm sitting in the front row because I'm a bit of a keener. Butters is sitting next to me. He is one of the few people from South Park middle school who still treats me the same. When I asked him why, he said, "Kenny saved you because he thought you were worth saving. If he thought it, then it must be true! He'd be disappointed at all of his friends for being mean. I don't want to disappoint him by treating you like trash or being fake. That'd be real disrespectful."

I thought that was a very Butters thing to say. There should be more people like Butters in the world.

Mr. Garrison is introducing the new unit on cell division – yes, he is our teacher once again. They idiot school board finally decided he wasn't fit to teach young children. I think I could have told them that. I'm sure any kid who has had him could have told them that. He has traumatized many young minds over the years.

Every time he asks a question, he looks at me and Wendy expectantly because we are the only kids in the class who really know what's going on. I feel like it's a competition – to see who can give the most answers. A pretty harmless competition.

Everyone else is too wrapped up in their own lives to study. I guess all my life really revolves around is school. I need to get good grades to do what I want in life. I need to be an over-achiever. The kids can hate me for it, but one day I'll make a difference. One day I'll be the one saving lives. Until then, they can hate me all they want.

I'm going to repay Kenny and this is the only way I know how. So I'll study hard. I'll apply to all the best schools, and someday I'll be a doctor.

I think Kenny would have liked that.


	2. WT: Bloody knuckles in the love seat

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**If you don't love Wendy then get da hell out. Just kidding, but if you do hate her then you may end up hating this fic because she's a main character in it!**

**So, the first few chapters are going to be a little slow. They're kind of like introductory chapters, I suppose. Things will pick up, soon! Stan's POV is next. **

**Wendy –**

* * *

Stan is often on my mind, him and all his little quirks. I was thinking about the colors that remind me of him, sky-blue like his eyes, the darkest black like his hair, that shy Crayola peach that matches his skin and red, like his favorite shirt. I was thinking about the way he talks so enthusiastically with his hands, grinning splendidly when it's a topic of his passion, the way his eyes crinkle when he is laughing. I adore his laughter and its brilliant, beautiful sound. The way the skin around his eyes folds into tiny crow's feet when he's overwhelmed with such joy. It makes me want to laugh with him.

When I'm alone in my mind, I realize how lucky I am to have him. When we were young we thought it was love, but of course, we were young and when you are small finding a dollar on the side of the road could be love for all you know.

Today I like to think we both know that what we have is love, though in the past I was insecure. It happened often and I would get jealous. I tried not to be, but you can't really help the way you feel.

One night in specific, we were all watching a silly, gory horror film – Stan, Kyle, Eric, Kenneth and myself. It was back in grade nine, when Kenneth was still alive.

I had interrupted their boy's night, but they invited me to stay. A part of me wished I hadn't accepted the offer.

I was sitting in between Eric and Kenny while Kyle and Stan were in the love-seat. They were playing bloody knuckles. Stan was winning and Kyle kept letting out these long whiny, moans with each slap Stan delivered.

I found myself paying more attention to them than to the movie, but I suppose that's okay. I was never into those kinds of movies.

"You guys are ridiculously immature," Eric said.

"Like you're much better," Stan retorted, "You get sadistic enjoyment out of seeing Kyle hurt. You should be loving this."

As the credits rolled, Kenneth stood up and stretched, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. He put one between his lips and lit it with ease.

"Go outside to smoke that thing, will you?" I asked him. "I don't want to smell it."

He held up his hands, mumbling, "Fine, you crazy nun."

Stan stifled a smile as he watched Kenneth open the back door.

"That guy, I swear…" I sighed.

Sometimes I think I would have liked Kenneth much more if he was less offensive and hadn't open his toilet of a mouth so often.

A moment later, Stan said something I couldn't quite make out to Kyle and the redhead started laughing. Seeing them like that made me angry. I was so jealous. I was jealous that Kyle held an important part of Stan that I thought I'd never have, yet wanted so desperately.

Stan let Kyle see parts of him that no one else was allowed to see.

It made me wonder why he couldn't let me have that part of him.

However, he doesn't spend time with Kyle anymore and I am glad. I know how selfish it is of me, and I can't justify it at all. I know I have some flaws, especially when it comes to Stan.

Though, to be honest, Stan never gave me the piece of himself Kyle held. I think, somehow, Kyle still holds it.

* * *

I glance over at Stan, who smiles. We are in biology class and Kyle is explaining binary fission, mitosis and meiosis.

"Very good, Kyle," Mr. Garrison praises, "It's good to see that the class isn't full of complete retards. Now how many cell divisions does a human experience in the duration of their lifetime?"

My hand shoots up. I catch myself staring at the back of Kyle's curly, red head and the war is on.

I think the rest of the class expects this by now and they are probably all rolling their eyes, but because of this I respect Kyle. I respect his intelligence… And I also recognize that he is a good person. It isn't like he ever begged for Stan's attention. Stan willingly gave it to him.

"Wendy?" Mr. Garrison points to me.

"Ten thousand trillion," I say.

"Correct, Wendy. Very good, very good."

Naturally, this back-and-forth game between Kyle and I continues until there is fifteen minutes of class left.

"Now I hope everyone read the assigned chapter," Mr. Garrison says, "Because it's time for a pop quiz."

I hear Stan let out a groan beside me and I put my hand on his shoulder. "You read it, didn't you?"

"No," he sighs, "I had football practise. We have a tomorrow against Denver, you know that."

"Stan," I chastise, "It was a short chapter, you should have read it on your free period."

"Wendy," he groans.

"Just try your best."

"Always do," he says, though I know that is a bit of a fib. I don't want to say Stan is a complete idiot, but he isn't the smartest person. Maybe it's the fact that he just doesn't try. Kyle used to tutor him when we were young, but that obviously doesn't happen anymore. Now it's up to me. And between football games, cheerleading, and school, it is hard to find the time. Even when I do find it, nothing I say to him sinks in. Sometimes, I don't know if I should bother anymore.

Mr. Garrison hands out the quiz, and I find it incredibly easy. I finish it within mere minutes and so does Kyle. Mr. Garrison lets us both leave ten minutes early since the rest of the class is still writing it.

I wait outside for Stan, and clearly Kyle is also waiting for someone because he's standing a few feet away from me. I feel like I should say something…

"How did you do on the quiz?" I ask, "Easy, right?"

"What?" he looks over at me, like he doesn't understand why I'm talking to him. Honestly, we hardly talk. Bebe, Rebecca, Nichole... Most of the girls on the squad are fond of him, but I can hardly bring myself to look at him.

Stan and Kyle aren't friends anymore, and that gives a sense of relief... However, I feel ashamed because of that.

"The quiz," I say again, "It was easy wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was," he smiles. His smile is reserved, not that I'd expect anything different. We've never been close.

"Who are you waiting for?"

"Butters," he says, "We have a project to in Entrepreneurship on Monday and we need to polish it up."

"Oh. How do you like that class?" I ask, "I heard good things and I need to choose a few electives for next year."

"I like it," Kyle says. "It's hands on, which is quite different than many other classes."

"I'll definitely consider it, then," I smile. "What are you planning to do in university?" I ask.

"I want to be a doctor," he says, sounding somewhat melancholic.

"That's great," I tell him, "You'll be saving lives."

"Exactly."


	3. SM: Just a vague memory

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Stan –**

* * *

"That was hard," I whine to Wendy after exiting the classroom.

She laughs at me. "I'm sure you at least passed it."

"I hope so…" I rub the back of my head. To be honest, I haven't passed the last few quizzes in most of my classes, not just bio… However, I haven't told anyone that yet. I kind of want to avoid letting people know how bad I'm doing.

"Let's go to lunch," she says, taking my hand.

"You didn't have to wait for me," I say as we walk down the hallway, "I could've just met you in the cafeteria."

"It's fine," she smiles, "I spoke a little with Kyle."

I raise my eyebrow. "Why?"

"We finished at the same time and he was waiting for Butters."

"Oh," I mumble.

Butters finished a while before I did. He probably knew the answers; it just took a few minutes for him to recall them.

We enter the cafeteria and approach our regular table with Bebe, Clyde, Token, Nichole, Rebecca, Lola, and so on.

"What do you want for lunch?" I ask Wendy.

"Hmm," she muses, tapping her lips with her index finger. "Just get me whatever you're getting."

"All right," I say. "I'll be right back."

I turn around and wait in the long-ass lunch line. A minute later, Kyle gets in line behind me holding a bottle of water and a can of soda. I'm assuming the soda is for Butters because Kyle doesn't do sugary foods and drinks… It's weird I still remember something as insignificant as that.

I don't say anything to him. I just stare off into empty space.

Sometimes I feel like I should say sorry to him, but I never do. When I start thinking about it I get angry all over again and I feel like it really was Kyle's fault. Kenny stayed with Kyle because Kyle was scared to cross the street. If we all just ran at the same time, we would've made it. Kenny wouldn't be…

Ah, fuck it. I know it wasn't _really_ his fault.

Oh, well.

It's probably too late to be thinking about apologies anyway.

* * *

I order Wendy a slice of pizza and the same for myself. She likes to stick with healthy food, but a but of junk food won't hurt her.

"Thanks, Stan," she says when I put the plate in front of her.

"So, what's good?" I ask, finally taking a seat.

"We're talking about the big game tomorrow," Bebe grins.

"Fuck yeah," Clyde says, pounding his fist into his hand. "We're gonna kick Denver's ass!"

"Like we always do," I grin, giving Clyde a high-five over the table.

Wendy giggles. "Guys, settle down, we aren't out on the field yet."

"We're doing so well this year," Nichole smiles.

"Yeah, we haven't lost a game yet," Lola cuts on.

"And we aren't gonna," I vow.

"That's right!" Token agrees.

We really turned the team around this year and our losing streak transformed into a winning streak. I like to think I had something to do with the dramatic change.

* * *

After the school-day is finished, we have our last practice before the game. There are a few kids on the bleachers watching. I always get a rush on game night, seeing the pack of people in the audience cheering us on. For me, there's nothing better than hearing the roar when you score a touchdown.

"Where's Cartman?" I ask, looking around for him.

"He fucked up his knee, remember?" Clyde reminds me.

"Shit," I say, "So that means he can't play tomorrow, huh?"

"Yeah," Clyde makes a face, shrugging. "Sucks, but at least it's not you."

"Heh."

Suddenly, I hear someone say my name in a stern tone. You know, the kind of tone that makes you think you're in trouble.

"Stanley," the coach says.

"Yeah?" I ask, turning around.

"Step into my office for a minute, will you?" he requests.

I raise an eyebrow, but follow nonetheless.

Maybe I _am_ in trouble…

"Someone's gonna get yelled at!" Clyde sings.

I ignore him.

"What's up, Coach?" I ask after stepping into his office.

"Stanley, your marks…" he pauses, "Garrison informed me you've been failing your weekly tests… None of your marks are up to par. If you don't raise your average you'll be forced to quit the team."

"Are you fuc–" I cut myself off, wanting to avoid cussing in front of a teacher. "Are you serious?"

"'Fraid so."

I groan, slumping against the wall. Wendy is going to murder me. "What's my average?" I ask.

"58, which is a D."

"Shit, that's pretty low," I mumble, biting my thumbnail. My parents are going to murder me. "What do I need to have?"

"At least a 65. That's a C."

I rub my face in my hand. "Jesus Christ, how am I going to raise it?"

"It's only 7 points," he reasons, "It shouldn't be too difficult. Get a tutor."

"Yeah…" I mumble, "I'll ask Wendy to help me out."

"I'll allow you to play in the game this weekend, since we only now informed you of the situation," he explains, "We can't afford for you not to play; however, you need to raise your average in time for the next game otherwise I can't allow you to play."

I nod. "I'll raise it, don't worry."

"Good," he waves me off.

I leave his office feeling super shitty.

"What was that all about?" Clyde asks, a somewhat knowing smile on his face.

"Nothing important," I insist, trying to perk up. I'm not going to have Clyde rub it in my face that his average is higher than mine. It's probably an even 65. Or maybe a 66, but probably no higher than that. Clyde's just as dumb as I am.

"All right," he says, giving me a slap on the back. "Go suit up."

I shrug him off and head to the locker room.

Fuck.

* * *

After practice I'm still feeling pretty shitty. Clyde kept nagging me in the locker room, and now Token and the other guys are curious as well.

God, I'm about ready to choke someone.

I think Wendy senses that because she asks, "Stan, what is it?"

I just shrug her off for now. "Later," I mumble, because I have to drive some people home first and it'd be too awkward to have everyone know about my shit-marks.

I unlock the doors to my jeep, getting into the driver's seat with Wendy in the passenger. Nichole, Token, Clyde and Bebe squeeze together in the back.

"Hey, look! There's Kyle," Nichole points to the sidewalk, where Kyle zipping up his jacket.

"So what?" I murmur.

"I wonder what he was doing after classes?" Nichole muses.

"Probably running laps in the gym," Bebe supplies.

"Oh, right! He's on the track team."

"We should offer him a drive, he's going to freeze."

"Uh… no," I cut in.

"Why not?" Bebe asks.

"Because that would be weird?"

"Why would it be weird?" she sighs, "You guys are so silly."

"It isn't _silly_," I tersely insist. I know they wouldn't think it was so funny if they were in my position… if they saw it all happening… if they heard the sound Kenny's body made when it landed… if they saw the blood… if they saw him fucking die.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it fucking isn't," I growl.

"Well, I happen to think it is," Bebe challenges, not at all swayed by my anger.

"Bebe," I try to calm myself down. "There's no room for him anyway."

"I'd let him sit on my lap," she volunteers.

"Yeah, I'm sure you would," I mumble.

"Mmmm," she sighs, "that ass."

"Hey," Clyde whines. "What about _my_ ass? I'm your boyfriend!"

"Honey, it's nice, but you can't beat Kyle's. I could stare at it all day long. It's just so perky!"

"Bebe!" Wendy laughs.

Okay. I'm going to tune out the rest of this conversation. I don't want to know all about Bebe's fantasies surrounding Kyle's ass.

I pull out of the school parking lot and begin dropping everyone off one-by-one until it's just Wendy and I left.

"Stan," she says.

"Yeah?" I ask, knowing where this conversation is headed and dreading it.

"What was bothering you earlier?"

And there yah go. Suspicion confirmed.

"You're gonna kill me," I grumble.

"No, I'm not," she says, "Unless you deserve it – which I'm sure you don't."

I groan. "If I don't raise my average Coach said he'd have to kick me off the team."

"Stanley Randall Marsh!" Wendy raises her voice, sounding shrill. "You didn't tell me you were failing! I thought you were doing okay..."

She sounds like my mom when she does that.

"I'm not failing… 58 isn't a fail…" I say meekly.

"It might as well be!"

"Wendy, come on… Don't be like that."

"Stan," she sighs, "I want the best for you, and it would be in your best interest to have good grades."

I make a face.

"Fine," she says simply, "I'm not mad."

"Yes, you are."

She laughs, "Okay, yeah, I am a little mad. But I'll help you."

"Thanks…"

"Come on, let's go to your house and we can get started right now."

"Isn't it a bit late?"

"It's only nine."

"Won't your parents get pissy if you're at my house too late?"

"No," she shrugs, "It'll be fine if I say we're studying."

"They'll believe you?"

She laughs. "Stan, unlike _certain boys_, I didn't spend my childhood constantly getting into trouble. My parents put a lot of trust in me, a trust I earned."

I snicker, remembering all the crazy shit that happened when we were kids.


	4. KB: I feel so

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Kyle –**

* * *

Butters and I worked on the project during lunch, finally perfecting it.

It feels good to have it done early – now I can just spend the weekend taking it easy and perhaps do a little light reading.

I ran laps in the gym after school and couldn't catch the bus. It didn't mind – I almost prefer walking. I won't deny it, I have a bit of anxiety when it comes to driving and cars. I've never told anyone. I still don't have my license yet because of it. I know I'll have to get it someday, especially if I want to become a doctor. If I am on call, I'll need to be able to get to the hospital quickly…

Sometimes thinking about everything the career entails makes me think I won't be able to handle it. The blood, for one thing. I had Kenny's blood on my hands as he died and I was never really able to get it off, if that makes any sense.

"I'm home!" I yell once I arrive back.

"Welcome," Ike mumbles airily from the sofa.

"What're you doing?" I ask, kicking my boots off and hanging my jacket in the closet.

"Homework," he sighs.

"Is it tough?"

"Hardly," he scoffs, "It's too easy. It's just tedious and boring."

"That's because you're too smart," I say, slumping down next to him. "They should bump you up another grade."

"I know," he agrees, "But I already skipped two… I'm still really young. They probably don't want to bump me up anymore because they think I won't develop socially."

"Yeah, probably," I chuckle. "Mom and Dad home?"

"No, you just missed them."

"Where did they go?"

"Groceries."

"Ah," I say, getting up. "Well, have fun with your math."

I hear him grumble on my way upstairs.

As I reach the top, I open the door to my room and walk inside. It hasn't changed much since I was young; however, I did get rid of the toys and the silly bed-sheets.

I shrug off my sweater and settle down on my bed with my laptop, looking out the window. I still can't help but picture Cartman sitting perched on a fucking tree branch with his camera, waiting for me to start changing or do something that would be sufficient blackmail material. I can't even recall the amount of times I've caught him staring at me while in the process of taking of my day-clothes. God damn, he's voyeuristic.

Speaking of Cartman –

The big game against Denver is this weekend. Everyone is talking about it… Part of me wants to go and see it, but another part of me thinks it would be better just to wait and hear about it at school.

I don't know though. Maybe I'll see if Butters wants to join me…

* * *

Sure enough, Butters happily accepted my offer.

"Well, sure, Kyle!" he said, "That sounds mighty fun!"

So now we are walking to the field behind the school.

"I hope you don't mind," Butters turns to me, "but Eric's joining us."

I feel myself frown. "Isn't he on the team?"

"Yeah, but he hurt his knee so the coach advised him to sit this one out."

"Tsk… seriously…"

"Yep!"

I grind my teeth.

"It'll be fun, Kyle!"

"I should leave," I say. The less time I spend around Cartman, the better. We have such a toxic relationship. I think, in ways, it got even worse as we got older… Actually, scratch that, I _know_ it got worse.

"What? Aw, no, don't go," Butters says, frowning. "Eric said he'd be real nice to you and wouldn't start any fights. He'd be real sore to have you leave."

Butters is sweet, but naïve as hell.

"Butters…" I say, "You're a good person. You're one of the best people I know."

"Aw, thanks, Kyle."

"But you have this little problem," I continue, "Where you see good in the worst people. I doubt Eric Cartman has any good left in him."

"Did I hear my name?"

I turn around and see the stupid fat-ass standing there, looking smug as ever.

"Hey, B-Butts," he says to the blond, before glancing at me, "Hey, _Killer_."

I don't laugh, and I don't retort. I know that's what he is looking for – a reaction, specifically a violent one. I'm not going to satisfy him by giving him what he wants.

I simply walk past him and find a seat in the bleachers. Butters follows after me with Cartman in tow behind him.

The game soon starts, and Cartman is still trying to get my attention but I don't listen. I'm not going to make a scene by verbally attacking him. That's what he wants me to do. It's like Stan always used to say, he gets off on it.

* * *

Of course, it was yet another victory for the Cows. No surprise. The bleachers are now a mess of empty alcohol bottles, pop cans and cigarette butts. The principal is probably going to make an announcement about it next week. I can see it now... she'll start ranting about underage drinking and drugs and all that shit. No one will listen to her and the next football game will be just like this one.

It started raining half way through the game, but not one person left the stands. I guess that says something about how exciting the game was.

Butters is all fucking smiles over the results. "Stan played great, didn't he?"

"Stan's a fag," Cartman says.

"Aw, Eric, don't be like that."

Everyone is loitering around the school, feet shuffling. You've got the drinkers and smokers laughing and hanging off of each other, then there are kids like me and Butters who look like we really don't belong. They're all probably waiting for the football team and the cheerleaders to come out so they can congratulate them on yet another victory.

I feel myself frowning as I think about it all.

Cartman looks over at me and raises an eyebrow.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say a little too defensively.

It's cold out. Cartman offers me a drive, but I decline.

"You sure?" he asks, putting his seatbelt on and starting the engine.

"Yeah," I say, standing next to his rolled down window.

"Kahl," he scoffs, "It's been a year."

"Shut up."

"Get over it."

With more intent, I repeat, "Shut. Up."

"Get in the fucking car, Jew."

"What?" I ask. "Not _Killer_ this time?"

He gives me a dry stare.

"C'mon, Kyle!" Butters says from the passenger seat. He's hanging out the window like a fucking puppy.

"It's fine, I'll walk," I try to insist.

"But, Kyle, it's cold and rainy out, you'll freeze!" Butters cuts in.

"No."

"Come on, Kahl," Cartman says impatiently, "Get in the car… Think of it as, uh… what's it called when you make people face their fears? It's a type of therapy, I think…"

"Exposure therapy," I drone.

"Yeah, that."

I make a face, and Cartman gets annoyed.

"Kyle," he says, pronouncing my name carefully, "Get in the _fucking_ car."

I let out an angry sound, relenting and getting in the back seat.

Cartman and Butters chat mindlessly about the game – about Stan, Clyde, Token and the rest of the guys. They talk about the girls, too – how hard they cheered and how good they looked as they did it. I roll my eyes at Cartman's comments on Bebe's "big hooters" because I know that's the last thing he's interested in. He likes small boobs… He's just trying to act the way he thinks the stereotypical jock should.

He drops Butters off first, unfortunately, and everything is awkwardly silent, but I'm not going to complain.

"You shouldn't keep being a little bitch about it," Cartman says. "It's long over."

I ask, "Are you being fucking serious right now?"

"Yeah," he continues.

"You're a sick fuck!"

"It's better than being scared of riding in a fuckin' car."

"I'm not scared of cars," I insist, and it's true. I'm not, I just have a _little_ anxiety and I get worried. There's a difference...

"Sure, Jew," he laughs.

I feel my eyes getting glassy. "Cartman, shut up," I say and my voice is wet.

How fucking humiliating.

"Tsk…" he clicks his tongue.

"Let me out," I choke.

"Why?"

"I can't be around you."

"Why?" he repeats.

"Because it makes me sick!"

That's a bit of a lie. It doesn't make me sick; it's more of a sad feeling. I'm sure I'd get the same feeling from being around Stan. Clearly, they've both moved on and I'm still stuck… but maybe that's because I'm a bit of the reason Kenny is dead. I don't really deserve to ever move on from it.

"Heh," Cartman chuckles somewhat bitterly. "You weren't saying that a few nights ago."

"Don't…" I whisper.

It's times like these where I find myself wishing Chef was still alive. I know he would force us all to fix things.

Cartman just continues driving.

I let out an angry breath and wipe my eyes.

"Tears don't bring the dead back to life, Kahl, so it's no use crying over it. Don't be a pussy."

"Don't you think I fucking know that!" I scream at him, yet I still don't stop. I cover my mouth and let out a quiet whimper. My entire being feels heavy –body and mind – and my thoughts just keep unraveling.

Soon enough, I'm full out wailing and I'm starting to think that maybe that was his plan the entire time. He probably wanted me to finally let it all out.

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone!" I sob.

"Yeah…I know."

Cartman doesn't say anything else; he just keeps driving until we're parked in front of my house.

The drive felt long... a lot longer than I know it was.

My head begins to hurt and I'm not sure if it's because of the crying of because of the car.

"Better?" he asks after I've quieted down.

I don't say anything because I'm too embarrassed.

Our relationship really is fucked up.

Cartman turns around to face me where I'm sitting in the back seat and tells me, "Kinny wouldn't want you to dwell on it. He wouldn't even fuckin' care. He'd probably just laugh it off and want you to laugh it off, too. So, for him, you should be able to do that much. Jesus Christ, Jew. You're a fuckin' mess."

I never give him enough credit.

So, sure, maybe in his own ugly way, he is trying to make me feel a little better, but it's not working. He just ends up making me feel so much worse. I can't look at things the same way he does.

"I'm not like you," I say, furiously wiping my eyes.

"Well, then, maybe you could learn a thing or two from me," he smirks.

I grimace at him, getting out of the car after spitting out a "thanks for the ride".

After he pulls out of the driveway and leaves, I just stand out in the rain for a while, letting it soak every inch of me. I look up into the dark sky and sigh. I don't know how I feel anymore. About anything.

When I'm inside, Ike asks me what the hell happened. I shrug him off, running upstairs to take off my wet clothes.

As I'm tugging on a pair of sweatpants over my bare ass, Ike opens the door.

"Dude!" I say to him.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I shrug into a sweater.

"Was that Eric Cartman in the car with you?"

"He drove me home."

"Voluntarily?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I have no idea," I shrug, settling on my bed.

"Was he nice about it?"

"I don't know… Maybe he was, in his own way," I admit.

Cartman and I grew a little closer after Stan fucked off.

Pff… Closer. That's one way of putting it.

"Oh," Ike says. "How was the game?"

"Cows won."

"That's good," he smiles. "Was Stan there?"

"He's the quarterback," I mumble, "so of course he was."

"Mom and Sharon still talk on the phone sometimes."

"I know."

"They talk a lot about you and Stan," Ike continues. "They wish you two would make up."

I roll my eyes. Fuckin' parents. "Ike, that isn't going to happen, I think our parents know that, too. It's already been too long."

"I guess… The fighting was Stan's fault anyway."

I force out a quiet laugh, "Yeah. It kind of was, wasn't it?"

"He didn't have to say the things he said… or do the things he did."

"No, he didn't," I agree, "But what's done is done."

What's done is done.

I wish I could convince myself to actually believe those words, but I can't. I still miss Stan and Kenny, and even Cartman, though I'd never admit it out loud. Cartman is always here, yet at the same time, he's not.

It's my fault, though. I'm the one who keeps locking myself away. I guess that's what Cartman figured out. I guess that's why he made me cry. Maybe, in the end, it is a good thing.

"Kyle," Ike says, "You know I'm here, right?"

"Thanks."

"Are you okay? Your eyes are red."

"I'll be fine, Ike."

"Well, I'll be here until you're not… so, if you want to talk…"

Again, I say, "Thanks,"

And it's true. Ike is the one who forces me back onto my feet. He's the one who throws me the tissue box when I'm upset. He's the only one who hasn't told me Kenny's death was my fault.

Ike is always here at the times when, in the past, Stan would have been.

Stan…


	5. WT: So I'm a bit paranoid

**South Park © Matt & Trey. **

**Wendy –**

* * *

"Stan, pay attention," I say, snapping my finger as I watch his gaze travel to the window.

It's Saturday and we're in my living room studying. I've been giving him practise questions to answer, but he hasn't been doing very well.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "This is just… boring."

I let out a sigh. I wonder if it was any different when Kyle would tutor him. Maybe I should ask him for some tips.

"Okay," I say, "Then that's enough for today. We'll pick up again tomorrow, and you better drink coffee or an energy drink beforehand because you're in for a long night."

He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Not that kind of long night," I laugh, shaking my head. "A long night of studying!"

He laughs along with me. "Gotcha," he nods. "I'll hit up Harbucks before coming over."

"Good!"

"So what are you up to tonight?" he asks.

"Bebe's coming over," I say, "What about you?"

"I'll probably meet up with the guys," he shrugs, putting on his jacket and slipping on his sneakers.

I stand up and follow him over to the front door.

"Bye-bye," I say.

He leans down and presses his lips to mine. I smile after he draws back.

"Have fun with Bebe," he says before leaving.

* * *

After Stan is gone, I run upstairs and change into a pair of pyjama pants and a t-shirt. I wonder why Stan is so distracted lately. I wish he had told me about his poor marks, but at the same time I understand why he didn't. He probably knew I'd be upset…

I let out a sigh, slipping a sweater on and putting my hair up before walking back downstairs.

It's still early. Only a little past five – Bebe won't be here for at least another hour and my parents are gone out tonight. It's so boring being home alone.

I stretch my arms when I reach the bottom. Putting on a pair of slippers, I step outside to get the mail in the box at the end of the driveway. My family has a bad habit of not getting the mail for days on end.

As I reach the end of the driveway I notice a familiar looking head of hair across the street jogging.

"Kyle?" I say aloud.

He doesn't hear me. He's probably listening to music or something.

"KYLE!" I holler, shutting the mailbox after collecting the envelopes inside.

He pauses, removing an ear bud after turning around.

"Wendy?" I hear him say, and he looks both ways multiple times before hesitantly jogging across the street.

Poor thing…

"Hey," I force a smile.

"Do you need something?" he asks, soundings somewhat out of breath from his cardio.

"Yes, actually," I say. "You used to tutor Stan, right?"

"…Yeah."

"How did you do it?" I ask.

His tilts his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"He never pays attention and he needs to raise his marks otherwise he'll get kicked off the football team!"

"Really?" he mumbles. "Are you sure you should be telling me this?"

I just shrug. "Kyle," I say, "his marks used to be good. You made sure of it, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"How did you get him to pay attention to you?"

"I don't know," he shrugs his shoulders lightly, "He just did."

I groan.

"Try using smaller words when you're explaining things to him."

"Are you calling Stan an idiot?" I ask in a _somewhat_ joking manner.

"No," he says simply. "Look, you are a smart girl and sometimes smart people don't realize that other kids don't know what the hell they're talking about when they're on a rant."

"You're just as smart as I am."

"Yeah, I am," he states, "but I've been tutoring people since I was young. I kind of got used to being asked to dumb things down."

I let out a sigh before asking, "Would you consider doing it again? Tutoring him, I mean? I don't know if I'll be able to help him the way you would be able to."

I don't want to ask this of Kyle. I'd rather tutor Stan myself, but if this is the only way then it's worth it for the sake of the football team.

"No," Kyle shakes his head.

"Please?" I ask.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because we aren't friends anymore."

"So what?" I ask somewhat pleadingly. "You tutored kids that weren't your friends before, I know you have!"

When we were young, Kyle was often seen in the library helping kids with math, geology, or whatever subject it was that they were having trouble with.

"But none of those kids did me wrong," he says.

I frown. "What do you mean?" I ask. Stan never speaks of what happened between him and Kyle and I've never really asked. I just thought they grew apart after Kenneth died, but maybe there is more to it.

"You should ask him," Kyle says.

"Kyle, will you at least consider it?"

"Fine, I'll think about it," he murmurs.

"Really?"

"Really," he nods before turning around, putting his ear bud back in and jogging off.

I wonder if he will really think about it or if he's just saying that so I'll stop nagging him.

We'll see soon enough, I suppose.

* * *

When Bebe arrives later on in the night, she looks me up and down and states, "You look stressed out."

"I am!" I sigh, flopping onto the sofa in the living room.

"What's wrong?" she asks, taking her boots off and tossing her jacket over the railing.

"Stan," I admit.

"Again?" she frowns. "You guys haven't had a fight in a while, though."

"It's not a fight," I add. "I'm actually just trying to tutor him… Emphasis on the word _trying_. His marks are terrible, but he just can't seem to pay attention. It's almost like he just doesn't care."

"Hm," Bebe taps her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe he's too embarrassed?"

I shake my head. "No, I don't think that's it. I've seen Stan embarrassed before."

Bebe snickers. "Now you've got me curious."

"My lips are sealed," I laugh.

"Darn!" she jokes, before sobering. "Well, why do you think he can't seem to pay attention? Do you think he's preoccupied with something else?"

"No," I make a face. "I can't recall what he would be preoccupied over apart from school, so it just doesn't make sense to me… I was talking to Kyle earlier, though. Apparently he never had this kind of trouble when he tutored Stan. He said Stan just always paid attention!"

"Probably because they had that best-friend-bum-buddy connection going on," Bebe supplies with a chuckle.

"Maybe," I mumble.

"…But you don't think that's it?" she guesses.

"Yeah," I admit. "I don't know… They were always weird with each other."

"Weird?"

"Like… touchy, you know."

"Like gay?"

"Like… I don't know," I sigh. "It would be far-fetched to say that I think they were into each other, but sometimes it really did seem that way."

"Honey, I think you're paranoid," Bebe says.

I let out a soft sigh, "Yeah, you're right."

I think back to the time I interrupted their boy's night.

The movie played on, and I tried to pay attention but I couldn't help but notice certain things going on in the room right now, like the way Stan and Kyle were sitting so closely since they stopped playing bloody knuckles.

When I think about it… It would make sense for them to be in love. Isn't that how it happens in so many movies and books out there?

Every time I saw Kyle, I was forced to ask myself why him? Why not me? What made him so special that Stan would have been drawn towards him in that way. They had the picture-perfect friendship. Never in my life have I ever witnessed two people more dependent on each other. I used to think that if either of them were gone, the other would follow shortly after.

But that proved not to be true. The two of them separated all on their own after Kenneth died.

I was grossly relieved when they stopped being friends, though I hate to admit it because I know how much happiness they used to bring one another.

I'm just being ridiculous, and I realize that so I'm trying to make it right for the greater good.

I want them to become friends again, to fix things with one another. Then maybe Stan will open up a little more.

At least he stopped drinking…


	6. SM: Say nothing

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Stan –**

* * *

Time is going by brutally slow. Wendy keeps setting up study dates, but I can't seem to pay attention to anything she says… I don't know why. Maybe it's the way she explains things, but I just can't focus.

"Wendy," I whine for the hundredth time this afternoon. "Use smaller words."

And she tries, but eventually she begins to talk about things I don't understand yet again. Hell… maybe I'm just trying to justify why I'm not paying attention. Maybe it has nothing to do with the way she's talking and explaining things.

Either way, our Sunday study date didn't go over all that well either and now it's 5:00 on a Monday.

"Sorry, Stan," she sighs. "I'm not a good tutor."

"It's not your fault," I shrug, standing up to stretch my legs. "You've never tutored before. It's probably pretty tough."

We've been sitting in the library for over an hour and nothing has sunk in yet. I'm beginning to feel like giving up altogether.

"Hey," she says, biting her bottom lip.

"What is it?" I ask, sitting back down.

"Would you ever consider…" she pauses.

"Would I consider what?"

"Would you consider possible… letting Kyle tutor you?"

I make a face. "No way," I wave my arms.

"Why the hell not? He used to tutor you, and he was good at it. You learned easily from him."

"It would be awkward," I say, slumping forward and laying my head on the desk.

"So? Make it less awkward."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Stan," I sigh, "You're being difficult. What happened to you two? You used to be inseparable."

"Things change."

"No," she says, "People change, and I'm beginning to think you've changed for the worse."

"Don't make it look like I'm the bad guy!" I say defensively, even though I know I kind of am the bad guy in this situation.

The librarian shushes us.

"Stan," she says, "I wouldn't have to assume if you would just talk to me about it. It happened after Kenneth died, right?"

"Yeah," I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Talk to me…"

"You know the story of what happened."

"I know that you boys were jay-walking. I know that Kyle was scared to cross the street. I know he almost got hit and I know that Kenneth pushed him out of harm's way. That's how he died, but what I don't know is why you and Kyle don't talk anymore… I had always assumed that it was simply because you grew apart after he died, but there's more to it, right?"

I feel myself frown. "We don't talk because I told him it was his fault."

"What was his fault?"

"I told him he was the reason Kenny was dead," I admit, slightly ashamed. "I told him he killed Kenny. A bunch of us guys did… Cartman and I turned them against him and they believed us so fucking easily just because we were there and we witnessed it. Kyle was there, too, but they didn't care about his side of the story because we made him out to be the bad guy. It was our word against his."

Wendy looks shocked. "And you've never said sorry?" she asks quietly.

"No."

"Don't you…" she trails off, shaking her head. "Haven't you ever stopped to think how all that blame might have affected Kyle?"

"I think about it every fucking time I see him," I hiss out in a whisper.

"Then what's stopping you from making it right, Stan?" she asks tersely. She sounds so disappointed in me, not that I can blame her. I'm pretty fucking disappointed, too…

My eyes feel glassy, but I'm not going to cry.

Wendy frowns and puts her hand on my cheek. "You'll feel better once you fix things," she says softly.

"It's harder than it sounds."

"I know," she nods, "it will be hard, but you can do it."

I let out a groan, lifting my head off of the table and sitting up.

"I'll go get him," she says, jumping up.

"What?" I deadpan.

"He's in the gym right now," she takes a step. "Track practise, remember?"

"Not now, Wendy," I say.

"It's now or never!" she grins, skipping out of the library.

Ugh.

Fuck me.

* * *

She returns alone, but smiling. "He's going to shower first, but he said he would tutor you."

"Hm," I mumble.

"You better be nice," she warns me. "It was anything but easy convincing him to come here."

"If it was so damn difficult then maybe we shouldn't bother."

"Ah, ah," she shakes her finger. "You pointed the blame, remember? Now you're going to fix it."

I close my eyes briefly and take a breath. I haven't said a word to Kyle in over a year… We fought a couple weeks after Kenny's funeral. It was a really bad fight. He was crying. I made him cry, but I couldn't stop the words from pouring out of my both. It was like word vomit…

It's one of my bad habits. I have a hard time thinking before I talk even when I'm sober.

We were in my kitchen – my parents were still at work and Shelley was probably out with one of her gross boyfriends. I wasn't wasted, but I wasn't quite sober either.

"If you hadn't made him wait with you he would still be alive!" I screamed, not taking a minute to realize that if Kenny didn't wait for Kyle, then Kyle might be the dead one. I don't know which would have been worse. I don't really want to think about it like that.

"I didn't make him do anything!" Kyle screamed right back.

"Yes, you did! You know how Kenny was, always trying to take care of you because you couldn't take care of yourself!"

"He was the same way with everyone, Stan!"

I gave him a rough shove. "You killed him! You killed Kenny!"

He wasn't yelling anymore. Quietly, he asked, "Are you going to hit me?"

And I did – only once, but I did.

I let go of him and he slumped to the ground.

"Get up," I whispered, but he didn't move. He just sat there staring down at the carpet. "Get up!" I yelled again, with more intent.

He still didn't, but he moved his hand towards his face and I knew he was wiping away more tears.

"Kyle –"

"You're an asshole, Stan," he said evenly.

He finally stood up, not once turning his head to face me. He just walked right out of the door and we never spoke again.

I never told anyone how it went down. No one really needs to know. I doubt Kyle told many people either. Who would he tell? Maybe Ike, and maybe Cartman if he managed to nag Kyle enough.

Back then, we only really had each other. I can talk to Wendy about some things, but not about the things that truly matter… And maybe that says something about our relationship. I don't know. I don't think I ever really did.

I've tried not to think about everything that happened. It was easier that way… but I know that when Kyle is finally standing in front of me and speaking to me, I'm going to be thinking about it. I'm going to need to do something about it. I can't just brush it off like I always do.

Soon, Kyle walks into the library with damp hair and Wendy jumps over to talk to him. I don't hear what they say, but Kyle is smiling politely at her. I fucking hate when he gets that look on his face. It's so fake. I feel like, even now, I'm the only one who notices how fake it is.

"Stan," Wendy says, walking back over to where I'm seated and gathering up her books. "I'm going now, but Kyle will take over from here."

"You're not staying?" I ask helplessly.

"I don't think it would do any good if I did," she swings her bag over her shoulder.

"I guess…" I mumble.

Kyle approaches the table where I'm seated, looking away as Wendy leans down to kiss me.

"Bye, Kyle," she smiles.

"Take care, Wendy," he says almost mechanically, as she walks away, leaving us both alone.

Kyle doesn't even spare me a glance as he sets his bag on the table and takes the seat across from me. I can tell this is going to be awkward as hell and that I'm going to have to be the first to speak.

"Hey," I say weakly.

"What do you need help with?" he asks, not quite looking at me but past me.

"…Everything."

"Okay, what are you having the most difficulty with?"

"Math..." I mumble. "Kyle," I say his name for what feels like the first time in a long time.

"What?"

"Can we talk about something before studying?"

"No," Kyle says, "I don't want to talk about anything. Let's just study."

"But I think we should –"

"No. We shouldn't."

"Listen," I start, but he cuts me off.

"No, you listen. You and me – we aren't friends anymore. Why? Because you made it that way," he whispers angrily. "This is just a favor I'm doing for the school because if you get kicked off the team it'll turn to crap again."

"You don't owe the school anything, so why are you doing it?"

"Because I don't need any more shit on my conscience," he says tersely. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he asks.

"Huh?"

"Get your math book out."

"Oh…" I mumble, reaching into my own backpack.

"Can you simplify algebraic expressions?" he asks.

"What does that mean?"

"Okay," he mumbles, taking my textbook and leafing through it.

Kyle obviously isn't in my math class. He's in the advanced math class because he enjoys this shit.

He settles on a page and points to a question, reading it aloud, "See here, 2x plus 4x."

"Yeah?"

"Do you know how you would simplify that?"

"No."

"Okay, look here – the variable is the letter and the number is the coefficient. Both of these have the same variable, an x, which means you can add the coefficients together."

"Okay," I start, "So it's 6x?"

He nods, "Right, you have six x's. Easy enough, right?" He flips the page and points to a much longer array of numbers and letters. "See this one, We have 4x plus 2y plus 5x plus 4y. Do you know how we would do this one?"

"Uh… Add the ones with y's together and the ones with x's together?"

"Right," he nods again, "You rearrange them like so…" He takes my pencil from me and grabs my notebook. "4x plus 5x plus 2y plus 4y…" he mumbles as he writes. "And that's just how you show your work, the teachers like to see your thought process as you come up with the answer."

"Okay…" I mumble, as he hands me the pencil.

"Do the rest."

"So… 4x and 5x is 9x?"

"Yes."

"And then 2y plus 4y is 6y?"

"Yes."

"So… simplified, the equation would be 9x plus 6y?"

"Right, good," he says. "Do you think you understand this well enough?"

"I think so… But how would you solve something like that?"

"You wouldn't unless you are given what the x and y equals… We'll get to that later."

"Okay…"

It's tense.

It's going to be hard to get Kyle to open up, and sure, he really doesn't have a reason to start speaking to me with ease. I'm an asshole; he was right when he said that.

"Do a few more practise ones by yourself, then we can move onto subtraction and exponents."

Oh, joy…

* * *

I offer Kyle a ride after we're finished, and he declines like I knew he would.

"You should work on correcting your failed tests," he says. "It will be good practise."

"All right," I nod. "When are you free again?"

"I have track Wednesdays," he shrugs, "Other than that, I'm sure I can spare an hour or two on any other given day."

"All right," I say again, and then, "Are you sure you don't want a drive?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says, staring at vacant air.

I don't push it. I just offer him an awkward "thanks for today" and drive off.


	7. KB: I thought I was okay

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Thank you all for the reviews (:**

**Kyle –**

* * *

Stan offered me a ride home a little while ago. I didn't accept it, though. I'm sure he was just doing it to be polite since I spent two hours teaching him how to do math. I think it sunk in and if we keep up the studying, hopefully he will pass the next math test.

"Hello, Bubby," my mom greets me as I step inside. "How was school?"

"Fine," I tell her.

"Did you have track after school?"

"No, I was tutoring someone."

"Oh, that's nice. I didn't think you tutored anymore."

"I don't really," I shrug. "I hardly have the time, but the school quarterback is 8 points away from a failing grade so yeah…" I trail off.

"Well, that's nice of you," she smiles.

"Hey," Ike cuts in from his seat in front of the television, "isn't Stan the quarterback?"

"Yeah," I make a face, taking my boots off and hanging up my jacket.

"Really?" my mother asks, suddenly sounding much more interested. "Stan is doing that poorly?"

"Yeah," I shrug, "but don't tell Sharon… I don't think she has any idea and we'll raise his average so it won't be that big of a deal. It's no use getting him into trouble for no reason."

"All right," she agrees. "So you're tutoring Stan?" She looks so damn pleased.

"Yeah," I repeat.

I don't see why she's so thrilled over it.

"How is he doing?"

"Didn't you just talk to his mom a few days ago?" I ask. "He's doing fine, I think… I don't know. We didn't talk about anything except math."

"Tsk," my mother clicks her tongue. "What happened to you boys? You used to be so close."

"Yeah, well, shit happens," I shrug.

"Language!" she warns.

"Sorry, sorry."

My mother doesn't know that Stan blamed me. She doesn't know about the things he said to me or the things he told the other kids. It's probably best to let her keep thinking he's Mr. Perfect.

If she found out that anyone wronged me, her "Bubby", then not only would it ruin her friendship with Sharon, but it would give her a new reason to start some shit.

Well, everyone in town knows what my mom is like. She overreacts, especially when it comes to me and Ike.

But I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember and I think I'm doing an all right job.

* * *

School goes the way it usually does the following day.

At lunch time I go to find Butters, who is sitting with Cartman. Great.

I slump onto the cafeteria table, opening my chocolate milk.

"Hiya, Kyle," Butters says.

"Hey, Butters."

"Jew," Cartman greets.

"Fucking lard-ass."

"Chocolate milk?" he snorts as I take a drink. "Really? Are we still in elementary?"

"I happen like chocolate milk, you fat turd."

Butters tries to change the subject before an argument ensues. "Do yah have track after school, Kyle?" he asks. I assume he's referring to my clothing of choice. I hardly ever wear sweatpants to school, but today I am. I guess I'm just having a lazy day.

However, before I can say any of that, Cartman cuts in, "Kahl is on his period."

I throw Cartman an angry look.

"What's wrong, Kahl?" Cartman asks.

I let out an irritated sigh, "I don't have a vagina, Cartman."

"You sure about that?" he grins peevishly. "You sure act like you do."

"Don't be a sexist asshole."

"What?" he holds up his hand. "I didn't say anything."

"But I know what you were thinking!" I hiss. "Don't act innocent."

"God, Kahl," he laughs, "Calm down."

"You calm down," I mumble.

"Got a little sand in your vagina?"

"I don't have a vagina," I say again. "I know you're aware of that."

"You need to get laid."

"No, I don't," I say tersely.

He smirks, not believing me for a second.

"You want someone to remove that stick up your ass for yah, prude?"

"Shut up," I growl at him while Butters continues to wordlessly watch our back and forth argument with a frown. "This is hardly an appropriate conversation."

I'm far from a prude, and Cartman knows that, but it doesn't stop him from taunting me. Oh, well. It would be weird if he _didn't_ taunt me, so I guess I can appreciate the normalcy of it all.

I am no good with relationships… Probably because I'm never truly interested in the people I'm with. I just agree to start these relationships because I'm selfish. They make me feel a little less lonely and a little more wanted. Rebecca and Bebe didn't last. I can hardly call them relationships. We were just kids back then. We didn't even know what we were doing.

It's gotten far worse since we got older. Sometimes I feel like I still don't know what I'm doing.

Either way, I know it's wrong of me to play with people like this, knowing it'll never amount to anything, but I can't help it. I'm selfish and desperate for someone to want me…

Stanley Marsh.

Stan.

My old super best friend.

I've tried so damn hard not to think of him. I thought that if I didn't let him cross my mind, then maybe he would eventually leave my mind altogether. For a little while, it was working, but now I see that it was stupid. I was stupid, and now I've gotten myself knee-deep in another fucking mess.

Ever since he stepped back into my life I can't seem to stop thinking about him and it's making me angry. I don't need that. I just want to be able to move on with my life.

But it is so damn hard to fall out of love. Maybe it just isn't possible. I'm starting to believe that's the case. Maybe if you find yourself falling out of love, then it wasn't love to begin with.

I know I'm wasting my time and it makes me tired, but I can't help it. I feel like it's no longer in my control. Then again, you can't really change the way you feel… though I really wish you could.

If anything, I need closure. I just don't know how to get it.

"Still pining after Marsh, eh?" Cartman asks a little too loudly, almost like he's reading my fucking mind. "After all these years…"

I choke, spitting out chocolate milk in his face.

He draws back, "Fucking gross, Kahl!"

"Be quiet!" I yell defensively, grabbing the collar of his shirt.

"What?" he asks in a quieter voice. "Did I strike a nerve?"

"Aw, come on, fellas," Butters finally cuts in. "Please stop fighting."

Poor Butters... he really sucks at playing the mediator.


	8. WT: The pictures on his phone

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Sorry for all these short little chapters. The next one is much longer. **

**Wendy –**

* * *

Kyle was much more quiet in biology class today, our usually little game was much less fun without his passionate participation.

Don't get me wrong, he contributed, but not nearly as much as he usually does. I wonder why.

Maybe he's angry about having to tutor Stan?

Well, hopefully that isn't the case.

* * *

I take Stan's phone from out of his pocket as he chats mindlessly with Token and Clyde in the hallway.

Scrolling through his icons, I click on the photo album. I've never really looked through his phone before, but I know he won't mind.

Strangely, the first picture is of Kyle. There is no snow on the ground and he is sitting with Kenneth near what looks like Stark's pond. Kenneth looks like he's in the middle of telling a story and Kyle looks like he's laughing at whatever the blond is saying.

The next photo is of Stan and Kyle cheek-to-cheek, grinning into the camera lens.

The third is of a obviously drunken Kyle riding on an even drunker looking Eric's back. What an odd sight…

"What'cha doing, babe?" Stan asks after Token and Clyde walk off.

"Looking at your pictures," I say.

He nods, throwing his arm around me and leading us down the hall.

"Kyle…" I mumble, scrolling down to find even more photos of him. "There are an awful lot of photos of Kyle."

"Well, we used to be best friends. I've had that phone for three years," he explains. "I guess I just never went through and deleted them."

"You have more photos of him than you have photos of me," I point out, somewhat annoyed at that fact.

"Babe," Stan says, "You know that doesn't mean anything. I have lots of Cartman, too… even Kenny…"

"I know," I sigh. "I'm just being silly. You're allowed to have friends."

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

"Would you be so upset if I deleted them?" I ask.

He hesitates, "No."

I simply nod. He will deny it, but he still cares about Kyle. He tries not to, but he does.

I wonder if he ever looks at the photos when he's by himself. I wonder if he misses Kyle's friendship.

I won't delete them. Of course I won't delete them.

"I'm beginning to wish I didn't fuck it up so badly with him," he admits suddenly. He doesn't need to explain what _it_ is; I already know he's referring to what happened with Kyle.

"I know, Stan."

He doesn't say anything else, but he smiles a tiny smile – a sad kind of smile that tells me he really does miss Kyle.

"So did you learn much yesterday?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says. "I don't know what it is about him, but things just make sense when he explains them to me."

"Well, that's a good thing," I laugh. "Did you talk about anything apart from school?"

"No," he starts, "he didn't want to talk about anything important. I tried to bring it up, but he refused to hear a word of it."

"It will take time," I offer.

"I know…" he lets out a miserable sounding sigh.

We walk into the lunch room in time to see Kyle spitting in Eric's face. I wonder what happened…

"Fucking gross, Kahl!" I hear him shout.

Kyle reaches over and grabs Eric around the holler. "Be quiet!" he shrieks angrily, and I can't help but wonder what Eric said that got Kyle so riled up. Knowing Eric, it was probably something especially foul. Then again, knowing Kyle, maybe it wasn't anything at all. Usually Eric doesn't have to do much to get a reaction out of Kyle.

I look up at Stan, who is stifling a smile and probably feeling quite nostalgic seeing the two of them interact like that.

He probably misses them both… He probably wants to be playing the mediator again, because poor Butters isn't very good at it. He's too much of a pushover and likes to avoid any confrontations.

"Come on," I say, tugging at his shirt. "Let's go sit with Bebe and the others."

"Do you want anything to eat?" he asks.

"I brought lunch today."

"Oh."

"I have extra, I'll share with you," I offer. "Come on."

Once we are seated at our usual spot, Clyde immediately inquires about Stan's tutoring session.

"So," he grins. "I hear you are getting tutored."

"Yeah, so what?" Stan mumbles as I hand him an apple.

"Does this maybe have something to do with coach calling you into his office the other day?"

"Who cares if it does?" I cut in. "At least he is doing something about it."

Clyde snorts, brushing me off. "And Broflovski is tutoring you?"

"So?" Stan mumbles again.

"Is it awkward as fuck?"

"No," Stan says, and I can tell he's lying because what he's said to me hints that he is uncomfortable. I don't blame him. Kyle and Stan have both been through a lot.

Bebe punches Clyde in the arm, "Stop interrogating."

"Bebe…" he whines, rubbing his arm. "That hurt…"

"Suck it up, cupcake," she smiles sweetly at him before turning to me and laughing.

I laugh along with her.

"Clyde's average is only 66 percent," she announces to the table.

Clyde scowls, "Bebe!"

"What?" she shrugs.

"Well," he deadpans, "it is still higher than yours, Stan."

"Not for long," Stan vows. "I'm going to raise mine."

"You better," Token cuts in, "because we are fucked without you."

And he's probably pretty damn right about that.

* * *

After school, I urge Stan to go ask Kyle for more help. He has of work to catch up on and a limited amount of time to do it.

"No. I don't even know where he is," Stan says, stubborn as ever.

"He's where he always is, Stan," I reply patiently.

"And that is where…?"

"He runs, remember?" I say. "He's either running laps in the gymnasium or on a treadmill in the workout room."

He makes a face.

"Hmph," I mumble, pinching his cheek. "You're lucky you're so damn cute, otherwise I wouldn't stick around."

"Wendy," he whines

I laugh, leaning up to kiss the pinch marks. "I'm just kidding around. Go find Kyle."

"Are you sure you don't need a lift home or anything?"

"No, no," I wave my hand dismissively. "I'll go find Bebe and Nichole. We'll bus it today."

"You sure? You hate the bus."

"Yes, but I think I'll live," I joke.

"Do you think he'll be annoyed?" Stan asks.

"Kyle?"

"Yeah."

"Why would he be annoyed?"

"Well," he starts, "he probably has better things to do than tutor someone who fucked him over…"

"Stan, he didn't have to agree to tutor you – but he did. Maybe that says something."

"I think he just felt obligated to do it."

I shrug. "Maybe he did," I say, "But either way, it's an opportunity for you to right a wrong. You can fix something that has been bothering you for the past while… but make sure you're doing it for less than selfish reasons. Yes, you want to ease your own pain, but you want to ease his as well. Don't fix it only to clear your own conscience, have his feelings in mind, tool."

"I know that, Wendy…" he says before walking off to find his ex best friend.


	9. SM: I'm sorry

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**I'm writing a big math exam on Friday at the university, so I'll be studying until then. I'll update again this weekend~ **

**Stan –**

* * *

When we were young, Kyle had somewhat made it his responsibility to make sure I was getting at least B's. Without him, I kind of went downhill… but it obviously isn't his fault. It's mine. I never should've let him take on that responsibility. If I didn't, then maybe I would have taken on the responsibility myself – the way I should have. Maybe then… I'd be doing better in school.

I wander towards the gym, but I don't spot Kyle once I'm inside.

"Marsh. Who are you looking for?" the coach asks.

"Kyle Broflovski."

"Ah, he's over in the work-out room. Why are you looking him? I didn't think you two were friends."

"He's helping me bring my marks up," I say.

"Ah, good on yah," he pats my shoulder. "Glad you're taking the initiative."

"Thanks, Coach," I say, turning towards the work-out room.

Inside, Kyle is running damn fast on a treadmill in the corner of the room. He must have wicked stamina…

"Kyle," I shout, trying to raise my voice over the sounds of gym equipment.

He doesn't hear me…

"Kyle!" I shout again, louder this time.

He presses a button on the machine and it slows down, eventually coming to a halt. When he turns around, he is sweaty and his cheeks are flushed. "Stan?" he pants.

"Hey," I wave. "Uh… I was wondering if you were free today?"

"For tutoring?" he asks, bringing the edge of his shirt up to wipe his face.

I nod, trying not to glance at his stomach.

"Well, I don't have a change of clothing today," he says, gesturing to his sweaty shirt and track pants. "I was just going to run home after this."

"Oh…"

"If you want me to help you today, then you can drop by after I shower."

"I have my car," I say, "I can just drive us there. I'll wait for you to shower."

"No, I'll just walk."

"Kyle… Let me drive you."

"…Fine," he says quietly.

I wait out in the gymnasium for him to gather his things together.

"All set?" I ask once he steps out of the locker room.

"Yeah."

We exit the school and walk out to my car.

The ride is uncomfortably silent.

"Want me to put the radio on?" I offer.

"No, it's fine."

More silence.

I don't usually mind silences. I mean, when we used to share silences it wasn't awkward. It felt natural – like there was a mutual understanding between us both. We knew that we didn't always need to talk, and it was all right to share quiet time. Now, it is different and the silences are tense because I think we both know there are things that need to be said.

"Is it okay if I park in your driveway?" I ask once we reach his house.

"Yeah, there's enough room," he says.

We hop out of my car and I follow him inside.

"Where do you want me to wait for you?" I ask.

"You can wait in my room if you want and read a book or something until I'm done."

"Okay."

I follow him up the stairs and into his room, where I sit on his bed.

It is different than I remember it being… yet I can't exactly point out what has changed. Maybe it's just because I haven't been here in so long.

Kyle drops his book bag next to his bed before exiting the room without another word.

I find myself wandering towards the book shelf, but instead of picking up a novel I find myself picking up a yearbook from a couple years ago when we finished grade nine.

I leaf to page 28.

I still have the page number fucking memorized.

I stare down at a photo of Me, Kyle, Kenny and Cartman with arms around each other. Wendy took it. She was on the yearbook committee and made sure to get photographs of everyone in, even the loser kids no one liked…

A minute later, I turn to the back of the book, where I had taken up an entire page to sign Kyle's yearbook –

_Kyle,_

_You are the best friend a guy could ask for. _

_This year has been just as fucked up as every other year, but I'm glad I went through it all with you. Well, shit. We've known each other for as long as I can remember and I can't really imagine what my life would be like without you in it. I hope I never have to find out either._

_Shit, that is sappy, huh? _

_Thanks for helping us all pass exams. I don't know how you managed to tutor so many kids and get straight A's at the same time. My mom is always telling me I should take a page out of your book. Heh. _

_I'm looking forward to spending my high school years with you. _

_Let's be sure to make some good memories this summer._

_Infinite man-love from your super best friend, _

_Stan_

I find myself laughing, feeling somewhat melancholic. I look over the next page, where Kenny and Cartman had signed.

Cartman drew a swastika and wrote –

_Jew, _

_You're still a fag_

_Eric_

Short and sweet…

Kenny decided to be a little more creative. He drew a large outline of a dick and wrote his message inside of it –

_kyle! _

_youre solid, and probably a good influence on me_

_youre one of the best people i know_

_dont change too much when we get to high school_

_its said that high school changes people _

_and i dont want it to change you_

_anyway moving on from the serious stuff _

_i know i wouldnt have passed exams if it werent for you! _

_i owe you one dude_

_ill suck your dick next time we hang out _

_(just kidding, dont kill me) _

_this year was fuckin awesome _

_im sure next year will be just as good _

_im going to take these memories with me _

_to the fuckin grave_

_have a good summer (i better be a part of it)_

_love you, dude_

_kenny m_

I feel pretty sentimental and depressed reading this stuff. It feels like a slap in the face. It feels like I'm rubbing it in my own face. It's like looking at everything I've lost.

Ike pops his head through the door and starts to speak. "Ky–" he begins, but cuts himself off when he spots me instead of his brother. "Stan?" he asks. "Where's Kyle?"

"Shower."

"Why are you here? Did you guys make up?"

"He's tutoring me…" I mumble, avoiding his second question as I put the yearbook back on the shelf.

"Oh, right," he says. "Kyle mentioned that."

"He did?"

"Yeah."

"Did he seem bothered by it?" I ask.

"Sort of."

"Oh," I mumble. Great…

"You should really try and fix things," Ike says, leaning in the doorway and crossing his arms.

"He won't let me."

"Well, keep trying."

"Why do you even care?" I ask, getting somewhat annoyed. "It doesn't have anything to do with you."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "I'm his brother."

"So?" I ask.

"When things – or _people_ – hurt him, I make it my business," he says coldly.

Well… I can't really deny that I've hurt him, and I can't be angry at Ike for playing the protective little brother role.

When I don't reply, I hear Ike let out a little sigh. "You've changed a lot, you know," he says before walking away and leaving me to stew in my own annoyance.

* * *

I'm sitting on Kyle's bed trying not to radiate angst by the time he walks in with a towel around his waist.

"You didn't feel like reading?" he asks.

"Not really."

"Oh," he says before instructing me to "turn away".

I do as he says, but I catch myself watching him from the corner of my eye. Jeez, I can't help it. It's like when a parent tells their little child not to put something in their mouth – they're obviously going to do it anyway.

He turns to face his dresser, pulling on a t-shirt. When he drops the fucking towel I feel myself blushing. Jesus, it's Kyle, for fuck's sake!

In my head, all I can hear is Bebe – _"That ass!"_

I close my eyes after Kyle reaches for pyjama pants and seconds later I hear him say –

"Okay, I'm dressed. You can look now."

I open my eyes and when I turn to face him he raises an eyebrow and asks what's wrong.

"Nothing," I say, feeling an unpleasant sensation in my gut – like I might hurl – but I force it back down.

Kyle shrugs, taking a seat beside me on his bed. It feels the way it did years ago.

"All right," he puts his hands together. "Math time, then?"

"Yeah," I say reaching for my bag and pulling out a pencil, notebook, and my textbook.

"Did you look over your old tests like I told you to?"

"Yes."

"And…?"

"I think I got the x and y stuff…"

"Good. Your math class is starting matrices this week, correct?" he begins.

I nod.

"You did matrices last year as well, right?"

"Yeah…" I say. We did them, but I didn't exactly do all that well.

"Are you comfortable with them, or do you need me to go over it?"

"…Go over it."

"All right," he says, "_Matrices_ – the plural form of _matrix_. Matrices are simply arrangement of numbers into columns."

"Okay," I nod.

He leans in closer and flips through my textbook to the unit chapter on matrices. "Here," he points, to a series of numbers in brackets. "This is a fairly simple matrix. To solve this, you add the elements together since it is the same size."

"Elements?"

"The numbers," he points inside the bracket. "First off, we have [1 3] and [2 4], see?"

I nod.

"That means we first take the one and add it with the two, then we take the three and add it to the four," he looks up at me. "So, quick, what is one plus two?"

"Three."

"Right," he nods, "Now three plus four?"

"Seven."

"Good," he says. "Write it down."

I do as he says, opening to a new page and jotting down [3 7].

"All right," he says, "Now finish the equation."

Surprisingly, I find myself easily able to do it.

"That was easy," I say, drawing the brackets over my final answer.

"See?" he smiles a small smile. "And on tests, remember to always show your work, the teachers like to see the adding process so they can see how you came to get the answer."

"Okay."

"Now," he turns the page, "Let's try subtracting. Eventually it'll get harder, but if you don't know the basics you'll be totally lost."

* * *

"So," Kyle stretches his arms, "do you think you have a handle on matrices now?"

"Yeah, I do," I nod. "Thanks."

"If we keep this up, I can teach you every unit in no time and we can move onto biology."

"Okay, cool." I pack my crap back in my bag, asking, "Hey, what time is it?"

"It's 8:30."

Not _too_ late.

"Kyle," I start.

"What?"

"Can we talk?"

"We've been talking all night."

"Yeah… but not about math, I mean… I want to talk about something else."

I hear him let out a sigh and shoot me an irritated look. "I don't want to."

"Please?"

"I can't…" he trails off and pauses, clearing his throat before he continues. "I can't talk about it."

"But why?" I ask, sounding somewhat desperate.

He just shakes his head and closes his eyes.

"Kyle?"

He shakes his head again.

Since he's being so damn quiet, I guess I'll say it anyway.

"Kyle, I'm… I'm really sorry. I was stupid… I was worse than stupid. I was just plain mean. There isn't anything I can say to justify it. I should have said it a long time ago… but I'm sorry. I really am."

The words are long overdue, and I know that getting the words out isn't going to solve the problem, but it's a start.

He makes an upset-face and bends forward, pressing his forehead down into his hands.

"Kyle?" I say his name again.

He still doesn't answer, but I see his shoulders begin to shake.

Fuck.

When I reach forward to touch his shoulder, I hear him let out a short, cough-like sob.

Fuck… I really screwed him up.

"I'm really sorry, Kyle…" I say again. "There was… no excuse for what I did, but I'm sorry I did it."

"Just stop," his voice is muffled by his hands, but I understand him anyway. I guess years of talking to Kenny made me good at decoding muffled speech.

"No. I'm not going to stop. I need to say this and you need to hear it."

Kyle finally sits up and looks me dead in the eye for the first time in a long time. His eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks are flushed and tear-streaked. "You're not doing this for me – you're doing it for yourself. You're doing this so you won't have to carry around guilt!"

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are!" he cries.

I shake my head.

Suddenly, he lets out a sharp laugh, though he's still crying. It makes him look the very picture of insanity. "Go, Stan," he says, wiping his eyes. "I can't do this now."

"Kyle –"

"Get out."

"Kyle –" I try again.

"Get out!" he repeats, louder this time before weakly saying, "Please…"

So I grab my book bag and leave.

On my way down the stairs I see Ike marching up them. He shoots me a look as he walks past me and all I can do is thank God that Sheila isn't home.

She'd probably slay me for upsetting her son.


	10. KB: Only human

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Kyle –**

* * *

"Kyle?" I hear Ike ask carefully as he enters my room.

"Hm…?" I mumble, violently wiping my eyes.

"What did Stan do?"

I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Well, I suppose I already did that. Stan probably thinks I'm fucking insane. "He said he was sorry," I say airily. "He fucking apologized…"

Ike tilts his head to the side. "And that's a bad thing…?"

"I don't know if he said it for me or if he said it for himself. If he's just doing this to make himself feel better, then I don't want to hear it."

"Maybe he said it for the both of you?" Ike offers.

"I don't know…" I shake my head. "He had a long time to say it, so why is he saying it now and so suddenly?"

"Who knows?" Ike shrugs. "Stan is, as you say, an asshole… but I don't think he's necessarily a bad person – just dumb. Sometimes it's easier to be selfish about things like this. He probably thought that if he didn't acknowledge your existence then it would be easier for him. He wouldn't have to deal with that he did. He can't run away from it anymore. He has to face it now."

"That's stupid."

"Yeah," Ike continues, "Stan is a pretty stupid guy. That's why he needs you around."

I chuckle at that.

"Now that he is being forced to see you, to talk with you, to acknowledge you… His plan of ignoring what happened isn't working out so well. He has to deal with the fallout. He has to deal with what he did and how it affected you. He needs to make it right."

"When you say it like that it really does sound like he's doing it selfishly," I say.

"It's a little selfish, sure," Ike agrees, "but I don't think it's completely selfish. I think that having him see you break down like that might make him realize that he fucked up big time. I think it will make him want to fix things for his sake as well as yours."

I don't say anything. I just sniffle a bit.

"So, what did you say to him after he said he was sorry?" he asks.

"I told him to get out," I admit. "Well, it was more of a loud demand."

"Yeah…" Ike frowns. "I heard you from downstairs."

"Oh," I snort.

He approaches me where I'm sitting on my bed. "What are you going to do?" he asks.

"I don't know…" I mumble.

He puts his hand on top of my head. "I think you should let him talk."

"You do, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Well… I think I was the one to fuck things up this time. I didn't exactly let him talk."

"Naw," Ike shakes his head. "You're allowed to have a freak-out. In comparison to what he did – it's nothing. Maybe he expected it. Maybe he even expected worse."

I close my eyes briefly and let out a sigh. "Maybe."

And I suppose Ike is right. What Stan did was crueller. I never hit him – even now, I wouldn't hit him… and I especially wouldn't do it when he was down. Anger and grief really do change people.

Ike moves his hand down to my arm and wraps his fingers around it. "Come on, let's go watch TV," he says, dragging me out of the room. "You need to stop thinking."

I aimlessly follow after him, still wiping at my wet eyes. They won't seem to dry.

* * *

A few minutes after we're seated in the living room, I feel a headache coming on. Probably from all that crying.

I press my hand to my forehead and close my eyes.

"You good?" Ike asks.

"Yeah," I say.

"Headache?" he grabs the remote, turning on the television.

"Yeah."

"You should take something."

"No, it'll go away," I shrug, placing my hands back on my lap. "You know," I begin, "I just noticed something as we were walking down the stairs."

"What?"

"You're almost as tall as me."

He laughs, "That's because I'm nearing the age of growth spurts and, well, you're seventeen and short!"

"I'm not that short," I say defensively.

"Sure, whatever makes you feel better," he grins. "Someday I'll be taller than you."

"Yeah, probably," I admit, forcing a laugh.

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?" I ask.

"Pretend," he says. "It's only me here."

"Yeah… Sorry."

"Don't apologize either. It doesn't matter."

"Sorry."

"Kyle," he says somewhat dryly.

I snicker.

"So what do you want to watch?" he asks, aimlessly flipping through channels.

"I don't care; just put whatever you usually watch on." I'm not much of a TV person. I never watch it and therefore, I don't know what's on these days. The last TV show I remember watching was Terrence and Phillip… and that was around seven years ago. Sometimes I see Ike watching old episodes and I feel pretty nostalgic.

"Okay," Ike shrugs, settling on some anime.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Reruns of _Naruto_."

"Oh, what's this one about?"

"Ninjas!"

"Ah."

It reminds me of the time Stan, Cartman, Kenny and I convinced a man at a kiosk to sell us those Japanese weapons so we could play ninjas. Well, it definitely didn't end well for poor Butters…

Oh, well.

I don't really know what's going on in the show, but that's okay. It'll pass the time.

I just watch the blond protagonist fight with some orange haired guy and try not to think about what happened with Stan mere moments ago.

* * *

Once my parents get home later on in the night, they ask how our day was and all that typical shit.

"Stan was over earlier," Ike smiles sweetly at me. "Right, Kyle?"

I glare at him.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Mom says happily. "What did you boys do?"

"I taught him how to do matrices."

"Well, that sounds thrilling," she smiles. "You should have him over for supper next week."

"No, I don't think he'll be coming back anytime soon," I admit.

"Why not?"

"We had a bit of an argument."

"Tsk," she clicks her tongue. "You boys will figure it out."

I'm not so sure this time.

All I know is that I'm definitely not _falling out of love_ any time soon.

I wonder if Stan would keep trying even if I continuously refused to hear a thing he said.


	11. WT: Just a boy

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**I aced my math class, now I'm finally done school for the summer. All my worries are goooooone~~~**

**Wendy –**

* * *

Stan is in a bad mood. I can tell.

"What is wrong?" I ask.

The car ride to school was tense, and I feel like something is probably on his mind.

Nonetheless, he mumbles, "Nothing," and shoves his hands in his pockets as we walk through the school hallways.

"Clearly it isn't _nothing_," I say, grabbing his arm and forcing him to stop.

He turns to look at me.

I really hate it when he's in bad moods. His negativity tends to bring everyone around him down and his friends tend to avoid him when he gets like this.

"Wendy," he sighs, "I'm tired and angry."

"I realize that."

"I just don't feel like talking."

"It might make you feel better," I offer, "and maybe I'll be able to give you some advice on whatever is bothering you."

"Hm…" he seems to consider it. He takes his hands out of his pockets, running his hands through his hair and letting out an exhausted sounding sigh.

"Did you have an argument with Kyle?" I venture.

"How did you know?" he asks.

_Because it's always Kyle… _

"Because," I shrug, "I know you were with him studying yesterday, so something must have happened."

"Oh."

"So what was it?" I ask.

"I apologized."

"Well… that's good, right? Why aren't you happy about it?"

"Because it didn't fix a god-damn-mother-fucking thing."

"It'll take time, Stan… I keep telling you that. It's not going to be fixed overnight – but now at least he knows you want to fix it."

"We were at his place studying. When it was over, I said I wanted to talk. He didn't, but I started to say what I wanted to say anyway… I made him cry again," he says.

I raise an eyebrow. "Again?" I ask, trying not to sound exasperated.

"The first time…" he pauses, "It was when we had the big fight two years ago – the one that caused us to stop talking. I told him Kenny was dead because of him and then I hit him. I think I might've felt bad right after it happened, but he called me an asshole and I was angry again. That's when I started spreading shit with Cartman about how he… killed Kenny."

I shake my head. "Tsk, Stan… That is really awful and not like you at all… You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I am!" he growls.

"Calm yourself," I warn.

I'll admit that I have some ill feelings towards Kyle due to how much attention Stan gave to him. I was always in second place compared to Kyle, but I also know he is a sweet person. Maybe Stan couldn't help but give him that attention.

He didn't deserve what Stan did to him. He didn't deserve it at all…

Stan looks around to make sure no one is nearby. "I don't know why he was so upset last night," he admits. "I said sorry and he just started bawling."

"Maybe they were happy tears?" I offer.

"They didn't look or sound happy…" he frowns. "He told me to get out after. Well, he didn't tell me… he yelled at me to get out."

"Try to put yourself in his position. He was probably at a loss. He probably didn't expect an apology, considering what happened between you both. It was probably too much and he was unprepared."

"Hm…"

"What would you do if your best friend in the world betrayed you like that?"

"I don't know…"

"First, imagine how bad you would feel. Imagine how it would have affected you over the years. Then, suddenly, he comes and apologizes. He wants to make things okay. What would you do? How would you react?"

His nose wrinkles. "I don't know, Wendy."

"Just think about it," I insist. "You will come up with an answer… but we should get to class now. We're already late."

I grab his hand and drag him towards Biology class.

* * *

Once we walk through the door, I apologize for being late.

"Wendy, Stan… how nice of you to join us," Mr. Garrison drones. "Take a seat."

I notice Kyle look down when Stan and I walk past him.

I wonder if the two of them will be able to fix things. I wonder if they'll be able to put it all back to the way it used to be before Kenneth died.

For their sake, I want them to fix it… But for my own selfishness, I'm scared. However, I won't think about that right now. I don't even know how this will all turn out, so it's no use worrying about it yet. Jeez!

"Now for those of you who just showed up," Mr. Garrison eyes Stan and me, "we're moving on from cell division to talk about genetics. Hopefully everyone has read the chapter this time. Who can tell me what genetics are?"

The class is silent.

Kyle's arm doesn't shoot up the way it usually would – instead he looks like he's spaced out, staring towards the window.

Mr. Garrison notices this.

"Kyle?" he says, "I'm sure you know the answer."

Kyle suddenly snaps out of his daze and looks towards the teacher. "Sorry," he says weakly, "What was the question?"

"Genetics," Mr. Garrison crosses his arms. "Explain genetics."

"Oh, uh," Kyle pause. "It's the study of genes… or, genetic traits, meaning what we inherit… heredity. It has to do with the way we look and act."

"Oookay… a sloppy answer, but still better than what most of these retards could give me," Mr. Garrison nods.

Kyle is usually able to answer questions with well-articulated answers. He must be as anxious as Stan is over what happened last night.

I feel myself growing anxious as well… Though I'm trying hard not to.

* * *

At lunch break Stan is still in a bad mood.

I urge him to go find Kyle, but he shrugs the idea off.

"I'll do it later," he sighs.

"Do what later?" Clyde asks as he sits down across from us with Bebe, Nichole and Token following shortly behind.

"Talk to Kyle," I say.

"Sure, make it everyone's business, why don't yah…" Stan mumbles.

"What happened?" Bebe asks.

"They had a little… disagreement," I explain, "and without Kyle, we might lose our quarterback."

Clyde frowns at this. "Better fix things with geek-boy, then."

"That's not very nice," Nichole says to Clyde.

"Whaaat?" he holds up his hands innocently. "He is _kind of_ a geek…"

"Just because he's smart, doesn't mean he's a geek. He's just as athletic as you are, only in different ways." Bebe rolls her eyes at her boyfriend before turning to me and smiling. "Let's do something this weekend," she says.

"Sure," I say, "Like what?"

"Party!" she smiles even wider, "my parents are going away."

I laugh, "Bebe, your last party… Well, we were hardly able to clean up in time for their return!"

"But we did, and they never found out," she winks.

"A party sounds good," Clyde nods his approval.

"Friday or Saturday?" Nichole asks.

"Friday," Bebe decides.

We continue to talk back and forth about our weekend plans.

Maybe it will be a good idea to have a little fun.

As long as Stan doesn't get completely wasted, that is.


	12. SM: A sobering discovery

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Thanks for the reviews ~ some of you will not like this chapter ahahahaha sorry. **

**Stan –**

* * *

I've thought about what I'd do if I were in Kyle's shoes. I'd probably react similarly. I'd probably refuse to hear what was being said. I probably wouldn't believe any of it.

After school, Wendy pushes me to look for him again.

To get her to stop nagging me, I just do it.

I wait next to Kyle's locker for him, wrinkling my nose when I see Cartman swaggering down the hallway like he's something special.

He grins when he sees me and approaches. "Marsh," he greets.

"Fat-ass."

"We all know I'm just big-boned."

"No, you're just fat."

"Buff," he corrects. "If I was fat, the weight limit would prohibit me from being on the football team."

I roll my eyes. "What the hell do you want?" I ask.

"I should ask you the same question."

"Excuse me?"

"You're at Kahl's locker, right?"

"And?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Why is it any of your business?" I raise an eyebrow. "Since when do you and Kyle still hang out?"

"We never stopped," he says, "And if you paid attention to him you might know that… but you don't, you just go along with your life. Pretty selfish, if you ask me."

"Jesus, Cartman," I force a laugh. "It almost sounds like you care about him."

"Ah, fuck off, Marsh. What a laugh," he scowls. "Just tell the stupid Jew I was looking for him."

"Whatever," I mumble as Cartman walks off.

Minutes later, Kyle shows up hugging a textbook to his chest.

"Hey," I say.

"Stan?" he murmurs. "What is it?"

"Cartman was looking for you."

"Oh," he says, opening his locker and putting the textbook inside.

"Yeah… I didn't think you guys still hung out," I mention.

"We do," he shrugs, closing his locker. "Not _everyone_ ditched me."

"About that… Kyle, can we talk?"

"No," he says simply, turning around and walking off.

"Kyle, please?" I ask, following after him.

He lets out a sigh.

"Please?" I repeat.

He makes a face before relenting. "Not now."

"When?"

"Just… drop by in a little while. I'm doing something with Cartman now."

"What are you guys doing?" I ask before I can stop myself.

"It's none of your business," he says simply.

And well… I can't argue with that.

* * *

I go find Wendy again, letting her know that I can drive her home.

"You're not meeting Kyle?" she asks.

"I am, but later."

She gets a strange look on her face before speaking, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, shoot."

"Is Kyle gay?"

I make a face. "I don't know."

Yeah, Kyle's gay, but it's not my business to tell anyone that.

"Yes, you do."

"Babe, why does it even matter?"

She lets out a quiet sigh, "Promise me something before you go to talk to him?"

"Sure… What is it?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.

"This may sound strange to you…" she pauses, "but promise me you won't leave me for him."

"Wendy…" I force a chuckle. "You think me and Kyle are gay _for each other_? Hardly! He's not about to try and seduce me."

"Stan," she flushes, "It's a reasonable concern when you see it from my perspective!"

"How so?" I ask.

"You two were close… Closer than most guys are with their best friend… I've seen you guys spooning in your sleep on more than one occasion."

I shrug. "It doesn't mean anything, Wendy. It's only because we've known each other since we were fuckin' toddlers. We've seen each other cry, we've seen each other naked, we've seen each other embarrassed, drunk, sick… and all those at the same time while hunched over, puking a goddamn toilet bowl. We've seen each other at our worst. When you're used to being like that around someone, it doesn't really change when you grow older. I guess we were just comfortable with each other."

"Even now?"

"I don't know about now, but…" I find myself smiling, "we might be able to fix things, Wendy. He said he'd listen this time."

I feel stupid for getting so damn hopeful, but I also feel surprised at the fact that I'm hopeful. So much for trying to forget about him and the whole ordeal.

"Really?" she asks.

"And it's thanks to you," I smile wider, pulling her to my chest. "I owe you the biggest thank you. Someday, I might even get my best friend back."

"Stan…" she mumbles into my chest.

"Yeah?"

"You're welcome."

* * *

Wendy and I parked near Stark's Pond for a little while to waste time before I dropped her off back home. It was her idea, which surprised me. She usually isn't the one to suggest things like that.

I arrive at Kyle's just in time to see Cartman pulling out of the driveway.

"Wonder what they were doing…?" I mumble aloud to myself as I take his parking spot. The idea of them hanging out together is really fucking weird.

I shake it off for now, getting out of the car and walking up to his front door.

I ring the doorbell and Ike answers.

"You're back," he says.

"I am."

"Kyle's in the shower, you can wait for him down here."

"Why's he in the shower?"

He gives me a weird look. "I don't know, Stan..." he speaks slowly, likes he's talking to a moron. "Perhaps he felt like he could use one?"

"But he likes to take morning showers?"

"So?"

"And Cartman just left..."

He gives me another weird look. "Stan, what exactly are you trying to insinuate? Please, tell me, because I'd really love to know."

"Eh... nothing." I guess it does sound pretty fucking ridiculous.

I take a seat on the sofa, and Ike sits next to me.

"So, your parents gone out again?" I ask.

"Yeah… Dad's a lawyer, remember? He's always busy… and mom's part of all those dumb committees, trying hard to make a difference."

"Not a bad thing."

"I know," he admits, "but it gets annoying."

"I can imagine," I mumble. "So… why _was_ Cartman here?"

"I don't know," Ike shrugs, but I think he's lying. He sounds like he is, anyway…

"Oh."

Many awkward minutes later, Kyle walks down the stairs in sweatpants and a t-shirt, towel drying his curly hair.

"Stan," he says, "You're here already."

"Yeah."

"Sorry if I made you wait."

"No worries," I stand up. "I just got here."

"Come on," he gestures for me to follow him.

"Why was Cartman here?" I ask as I trail after him.

"He was just helping me with something," Kyle says.

"With what?"

"Jesus Christ, Stan. Why the hell does it even matter to you?" he asks, visibly irritated, as we turn into his room.

"I'm just wondering…"

Yeah, I'm not an idiot. Well, I am an idiot when it comes to school and dealing with my problems, but I like to think I know what's up when it comes to other things. I definitely know what it sounds like Kyle and Cartman might be up to… but that really would be fucking ridiculous...

I really don't know why it's bothering me so much and why I keep asking about it. I should really shut the hell up and stop nagging him if I want to make this friendship thing work again.

Once we're in his room, we stand awkwardly on the carpet for a few seconds until Kyle says –

"Stan," he says weakly, staring into blank space. "Don't do this to me again… I can't… I can't go through this again."

"Go through what?" I ask.

"The blame," he whispers. "I already know it was my fucking fault."

"Kyle –"

"It's fine, I suppose," he looks up. "You were only telling the truth, right?"

I frown. "No, Kyle…"

"You wanted to talk, didn't you? Now is your chance."

"Right," I clear my throat, "Uh… like I said… I'm really sorry I hit you and told you it was your fault. It wasn't your fault. I swear, it wasn't."

He crosses his arms. I know enough about that pop psychology crap to know it's a defensive move.

"I was angry… I get stupid when I'm angry, but that isn't an excuse."

"But you're sorry?"

"Yeah, I am."

He lets out a short laugh, "I feel like I should say sorry, too… but I don't know why. Maybe for killing Kenny?"

"You didn't kill him. You don't have anything to be sorry about," I tell him.

"Yeah. Deep down, I know that," he shrugs lightly with his arms still crossed.

"Am I forgiven?" I ask.

"Maybe."

I'll take it as a good sign…

He swallows audibly, "Do you want know why it hurt as much as it did?"

"Why?"

"Because," he laughs, somewhat sadly. "I loved you. I fucking loved you."

Wait… What?

"What?" I ask, feeling myself go wide-eyed.

I don't know what else to say.

"You're really going to make me repeat it, Stan?" he frowns, finally letting his arms fall to his sides. "I was in love with you."

I think back to what Wendy had said, and it doesn't sound as crazy as it did when she first said it a couple hours ago. I've always been told that I'm naive about things like this that concern myself. I guess it's true.

"… Are you still?" I whisper.

"I don't know," he admits.

I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I can feel it coming –

Word vomit.

"Are you fucking Cartman?" I ask before I can stop myself.

"What?" Kyle looks taken aback.

"…You heard me," I say.

He laughs and it sounds forced. "Stan… it isn't your business if I am."

I feel my lips part. "You are!" I grimace. "You _are_ fucking Cartman!"

"No, I'm not. I'm just saying that –"

"Yes, you are!" I shout, pointing and waving my finger at him incredulously. Kyle is lying. I guess I still know him well enough to tell when he isn't speaking the truth.

The image of Kyle bent over with the fat-ass behind him makes me want to kill myself.

"Disgusting, Kyle!"

He starts frantically shaking his head. "You are _not_ going to do this to me again, Stan."

"Do what?"

"You're not going to hurt me," he specifies. "I won't let you. I've already dealt with your bullshit once, and I'm done with it. I don't need it and I don't need you!"

"So, what?" I ask tersely, "You need Cartman now?"

"He's a fucking psychotic asshole, sure, but he did a lot more for me than you ever did after Kenny died!"

"Oh, god," I groan. "I'm gonna puke!"

"Don't be so fucking dramatic," he yells. "It has nothing to do with you!"

I take a seat on his bed and put my head in my hands.

Kyle and Cartman…

It makes no fucking sense... Then again, at the same time, it does.

Cartman is all about screwing with Kyle. I guess now, his way of screwing _with him_ is by literally screwing him.

"Why…" I mumble.

"Why what?" I hear him ask, sounding exasperated.

"Why Cartman?"

"Because," he says in a softer tone, "you weren't around anymore and he made me feel less lonely."

And for some reason, that makes me feel achy. I don't really know why.

I look up at him. "But… Cartman? _Really_? That's just gross."

"Stan!" he shouts, looking angry and upset at the same time. "You have no right to say that!"

"Why the hell not?" I ask.

"Because… it's my own choice who I do these things with," he gestures to himself.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. "It's called self-respect, Kyle. If this were someone like Kenny, I probably wouldn't give a rat's ass. He was hardly modest… but I know this isn't the kind of thing you would ever happily do!"

"Well, maybe you don't know me anymore. Maybe this _is_ the kind of thing I do and if it is, then it doesn't matter because I _do_ have self-respect!"

"No," I shake my head. "I don't think you do!"

"Yes, I do," he says calmly. "And even if I didn't, so what? It's a little too late to start caring now. You have no right to care."

"But I do."

Jesus Christ, do I ever.

His expressions softens as he takes steps towards me. "Do you think I'm completely vile now?"

I sigh, running my hands through my hair. "No."

He pauses when he's standing in front of me. "Really?" he asks.

"Really," I repeat, staring up at him from my sitting position.

He leans down, placing his hands on my knees and looking at me so we're mere inches apart.

"Kyle…" I say his name tentatively.

He doesn't reply. Instead, he leans in and closes the gap between our faces.

Before I can react, he pulls away and stares at me.

I stare back, silently.

When I don't protest, he pushes me back so I'm lying on the mattress.

"I'll stop if you ask me to," he says, crawling on top of me and sitting on my stomach.

Even if I could find my voice, I don't know what I'd say.

When we meet again, I find myself kissing back. His lips are soft. They don't feel the way I thought a guy's lips would feel… not that I thought much about it.

When we break apart, he gives me a sad look and says, "Sorry."

"Don't be…"

"What about Wendy?"

Oh.

Shit.

I forgot about Wendy…

I even told her Kyle wasn't going to try and _seduce_ me.

"Fuck," I mumble.

"Sorry," he says again, moving away from me.

"Like I said, don't be," I sit up. "You asked if I wanted to stop. I didn't say I wanted you to."

He looks away. "You should go…" he says.

"Er… Y-yeah," I stutter, standing up. "So… we cool?"

"We're cool."

"Okay, cool…" I say, making my way towards the door. "See yah."

I don't know why I didn't push him away.


	13. KB: How it happened

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Kyle –**

* * *

God dammit.

I think I sent Stan running in the other direction.

I shouldn't have kissed him.

I wonder if he expected it after I confessed.

He knew I was gay – he was the first person I told. I was crying by the time I had finally got the words out. We were thirteen and Stan was known to be mildly awkward with that sort of thing. I thought he was going to hate me and drop me as a friend, but he didn't… Well, not yet he didn't. He just shrugged and said, "Dude, it's cool – nothing to cry about." Then he gave me a hug to show that he wasn't going to be scared of touching me.

I told Kenny a few weeks later, but he said he already knew. That didn't surprise me… what did surprise me is the fact that Cartman also knew. It surprised me further when he didn't threaten to tell the entire world about it.

Cartman…

Now Stan knows about him, too.

Goddammit, I feel like shit.

* * *

I don't know how the whole thing with Cartman started. It just one of those things that kind of happened. That's all there really is to it.

It was after Stan ditched me, and I didn't have anyone else in the class to pair up with for some stupid project. I ended up with Cartman and we were up in his room trying to get it finished. He wasn't cooperating and we were arguing. It was all fairly typical of us until the insults moved to a sexual direction.

"You desperately need to get laid," he droned on. "Too bad Kinny wasn't still around. I'm sure he would've pity fucked you, being the whore he was."

"Tsk, Cartman, come on!" I raised my voice. "Don't say shit like that!"

"Just kidding, just kidding," he said defensively. "Jesus Christ, calm down, Jew."

"Calm down?" I growled. "Don't badmouth him!"

"Ah, whatever," Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Besides, I can get laid if I want to," I hissed quietly. "I don't need anyone's pity fuck."

"Sure, Kahl, sure… Kinny wouldn't care about a few jokes at his expense," he continued. "I can guarantee you that."

"No, you can't! You can't possibly know that!" I shouted.

"Sure, I can. Deep down, you know it, too. He'd want us to take things lightly and not be so fucking miserable."

I made a face face at him.

"And c'mon, let's be real for a sec, Kinny was on top of anyone who showed an interest."

"That doesn't make him a whore…" I insisted.

"Ah, fuck off with that social justice shit, Kahl," Cartman said. "People won't ever stop calling people sluts, hos, whores, fags…"

"But they should," I said.

"But they won't!"

"Doesn't make it right."

"Ugh," Cartman shook his head at me, "You're annoying. And a virgin."

I raised an eyebrow, "How does that make me annoying?"

"Because," he waved his arms around, "You need someone to remove the stick from your ass."

I felt my eyes narrow as I wondered where he was going with that comment.

He grinned, leaning in to whisper, "Bet you want it to be Stan, eh? I bet you want him to remove the stick and replace it with… something else."

I didn't know he even knew about my interest in Stan, but I guess he did and that's how he knew I was gay.

"Stop…" I mumbled.

He just grinned even wider. "Too bad Stan's with Wendy."

So one thing lead to another.

I guess the only reason he was able to make his move is because I was already down for the count and feeling like shit. I really didn't want to be forced to think about Stan, and Cartman was offering himself up as a distraction.

Anyway. I can't say I regret it, because I keep doing it…

* * *

Stan and I don't talk for the next few days and now it's Friday

That's okay… He probably feels bad about cheating on Wendy.

Shit, I feel bad about it, too. I should have controlled myself.

"Are you coming tonight?" Butters asks me as we exit the building after school.

"Where?"

"To Bebe's."

"What's going on at Bebe's?"

"She's throwin' a party."

"Oh," I wrinkle my nose. "I'm not in the partying kind of mood. I'd probably just get too drunk like always and start crying and puking."

Butters gives me a sympathetic look. "Aw, well, would yah maybe come if I keep an eye on you?"

"I'll think about it."

He smiles, and changes the subject – mindlessly chattering about school and his long-time girlfriend, Lexus. Yup, our Butters is dating a raisins girl and a lot of guys are actually pretty jealous of him because of it.

I nod along to what he says, pretending to listen and take an interest.

After minutes of doing this, Cartman pulls up in his car.

"B-Butts, Jew, get in," he says after rolling down the window.

I let out a long and dramatic sigh.

"Here, Kyle, you can have the passenger seat," Butters offers me before hopping in the back.

"Awesome," I mumble, getting in the car.

"What's good?" Cartman asks once we're all settled.

"Kyle doesn't want to come to Bebe's party."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because," I start, "I know I won't have fun."

"I'll buy you alcohol," he offers as compensation. "Then you'll have fun."

"That's another reason I don't want to go," I mumble.

He snorts. Cartman has had to drag my drunk ass hope on a few occasions in the past.

"How are you even able to buy alcohol?" I ask. "We're only seventeen."

"Fake ID, bitch."

"I'm not your bitch."

"Sometimes you are."

"Tsk, shut up," I wrinkle my nose at him.

Butters laughs nervously from the back seat, not wanting us to start having yet another argument. I don't know why Butters even tries to stop them anymore. The fights are inevitable.

"How did you find Garrison's quiz earlier today, Kyle?"

"It went well," I say. "How'd you find it?"

"I think I did all right!"

"That's good."

Hopefully Stan found it all right, too.

"Did you have any tests recently, Eric?" Butters asks.

"Yeah," Cartman says.

"How did you do?"

"Well, I passed."

"You passed?" I ask, "As in, what, you got a 51, or perhaps an even 50?"

"No," he sighs, "for your information, Kahl, I got a 69." He then snickers immaturely.

"Well," I say, "that is a lot better than I thought. It's almost a B minus."

"Yeah, I'm not dumb… just lazy."

"I'm surprised you can admit that," I laugh.

"See, fellas," Butters says, "it isn't too hard for you to get along!"

I can't help but roll my eyes.

This is hardly getting along.

* * *

**I'm not sure how the grading system is in American schools haha, but where I live a 70 is a B- so that's just what I'm going by.**


	14. WT: It was never me

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Wendy –**

* * *

"How many people do you think will show up?" I ask Bebe.

"Hm, well, it's open-door, no invite necessary," she shrugs, "so there will probably be a lot of people."

"I am dreading the clean-up," I shudder.

She laughs, "Then we better make this night worth it."

I came straight to her house after school to help her get everything in ready. In turn, she's going to help me get ready.

I force a smile. "So, why are we _really_ throwing a party?" I ask.

She knowingly smiles back, "Because you look like you need to let loose, honey."

"Is my stress showing?"

She nods sympathetically, "It really is."

I let out a sigh. "Stan and Kyle…"

"Enough said, eh?" she says, understandingly. "If they grow close, the way they used to be, then you're scared Stan will grow away from you?"

"I know it's silly of me," I admit, "but when I think about it… I do worry. Our relationship got so much stronger after Kenneth died. I know how terrible that sounds, but Kyle took up so much of Stan's time and attention. His life revolved around the things he did with his best friends. I can tell it's already starting to happen. Stan and Kyle talked things through a few days ago. Stan said it seemed like Kyle forgave him, but things were still tense. I can tell he's been thinking an awful lot about him, though. He seems like he's distressed at the same time…"

"Why would he be if Kyle forgave him?"

"I really don't know."

"Hm," she taps her chin. "I wonder what's on his mind."

"That makes two of us."

"Do you regret convincing Kyle to tutor him?" she asks.

"No…" I shake my head. "I know it's for the best. All these thoughts are just selfish."

"It isn't selfish, honey," Bebe says. "You can't help the way you feel. You're worried about this, and understandably so. Kyle, in a way, is like competition."

"I know…" I make a face, "it's so strange."

"Is Kyle gay?"

"I'm not sure," I shrug. "He is so secretive so it's hard to really know anything."

"Have you ever asked Stan?"

"He wouldn't answer."

"Well, just try and look at it this way – if Stan does end up growing away from you, then maybe your relationship isn't as strong as you think it is."

"Bebe," I frown. "Whose side are you on?"

"Yours of course," she reaches forward and rubs my shoulder. "I just want you to prepare for the worst if you really do think it's coming."

"I'm just worried I'll become second best again," I sigh.

"Well," she shrugs, "try not to think about it too much just yet, all right? You might just be getting worked up over nothing, so rid your mind of those thoughts for now. We'll go get dressed in a little while, and we'll look even better than we usually do. That's sayin' something because we're two hot mamas. So, you have fun tonight and don't even think about this Stan and Kyle business."

I chuckle, "All right. I'll try."

* * *

Around seven, Stan, Nichole, Token, and Clyde are the first to show up.

"We brought alcohol," Clyde announces.

"How did you manage that?" Bebe asks, putting a hand on her hip.

"We got Kevin McCormick to hook us up."

"Right on," she laughs.

"Whoa, babe, you look awesome," Stan says, giving me a kiss. "Not that you don't always look perfect."

I smile, rubbing my thumb over his stubbly cheek. "Smooth-talker, nice save."

Bebe let me borrow one of her dresses – it's red, sparkly and strapless. Bebe is wearing a plain, black dress, but she makes even the simplest things look amazing.

Minutes later, more people begin to pile through the doors and the party begins.

Bebe turns the stereo on full blast and creates the perfect party atmosphere. She always throws good parties. The only down side is the clean-up. The clean-up is always brutal.

"Stan?" Clyde calls from the kitchen doorway.

"Yeah, what?" he asks, turning around.

"Want a drink?"

"…Yeah, sure."

"Catch!"

I watch as Clyde tosses the beer can across the room and Stan catches it easily.

I want to slap them both.

"Stan," I frown, "I thought you stopped drinking."

"Babe, it's just a beer. It's not like one drink is going to get me wasted."

"Yeah… but first it's one, then two, then three… Soon enough you _will_ be wasted."

"Jeez, it's the weekend. Let him have a little fun, Wendy," Clyde says, opening up his own can of beer.

I feel Bebe's hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry about anything tonight. Tonight is a stress free night, remember? So let loose a little, Wendy."

I sigh, trying not to sound irritated, while walking into the kitchen to mix myself a drink.

* * *

Sure enough, the first beer was followed by a second and a third, as well as a large number of shots. Stan is drunk as hell, but at least he isn't angry… yet. I know it's coming.

I guess I can't talk.

Soon enough, I'll be just as drunk as he is.

"Come on, Wendy," Bebe says. "If you're this worried, clearly there is something wrong."

I let out a sigh before downing the rest of the drink she made me mere minutes ago.

"Is he really that bad when he drinks?" Nichole asks.

"No… No, I'm being dramatic," I admit, slurring my words a bit. "He definitely wouldn't hit me… He never laid a hand on me and he never would. It's nothing like that. He just gets angry and negative and makes everyone around him feel like shit. I can't deal with it… It's like… If you feel like shit, you don't need to make everyone around you feel it, too."

Bebe peeks out of the kitchen into the living room where Stan is talking loudly with the rest of the football team and a few of the other girls I cheer with.

"He definitely doesn't look like he's about to explode with anger," she notes. "He looks pretty happy out there, as the center of attention."

"Hopefully it will stay that way," I mumble.

"You need to have a talk with him," Nichole cuts in. "You need to tell him how you're feeling."

"I've tried… I've told him Kyle felt like a threat, and he laughed it off…" I pause, recalling our talk the other day. "I asked Stan to promise not to leave me for Kyle, but I didn't remember until I got home that he didn't exactly promise me anything."

Bebe and Nichole share a look before turning to me with sympathetic smiles.

"I don't know what to tell you," Nichole says. "I wish I did."

"It's okay, Nichole," I say. "I'll figure something out… I'll try to talk with him again tomorrow, maybe… when he's sober."

"Whatever happens," Bebe starts, "stay strong. If Stan wrongs you, don't take him back. Be calm about it and keep your dignity."

I nod, vowing to do so.

Who helped Stan keep his grades high? Kyle.

Who comforted Stan during his parent's ongoing separations? Kyle.

Who did Stan ask for when Sparky went missing? Kyle.

Who found Sparky? Kyle.

Who did Stan ask for when Sparky eventually died? Kyle.

Who does Stan have countless photographs of? Kyle.

Who helped Stan raise his grades yet again? Kyle.

Who is Stan always subconsciously smiling at? Kyle.

Who is always on Stan's mind? Kyle.

Kyle, Kyle, Kyle.

It's always Kyle.

It's never me. Sometimes I think that maybe it never was me.

Maybe I was just the replacement for Kyle after Stan pushed him away.

When I look back on it… our relationship did grow after Kyle and Stan stopped being friends. Maybe that means it wasn't very strong to begin with. Maybe, in the end, I _can't_ replace Kyle. In the end, no one can replace him.

_Fuck_.


	15. SM: Drunk and dim

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**I want to get this all posted before I leave the province so updates will be frequent :P **

**Stan –**

* * *

If I can't be one hundred percent happy with a girl like Wendy, then maybe I really am gay after all… though I'm not sure how I feel about that.

I've been thinking a lot about it lately.

Ever since me and Kyle… _kissed_… Being with Wendy has felt different.

I always stayed with Wendy because of our history… I mean, it took a hell of a lot for us to finally get together. We've had many nasty breakups, but we always ended up getting back together in the end. I don't think I really quite understood romance when I was a child. I thought that since I was a boy, I was just _supposed_ to like girls. I guess Wendy was just the girl of my choice. Maybe, at one point, there was attraction… but what is there now?

As we got older, I just never bothered questioning the way my life was or the direction my life was heading. Nothing ever got in the way of it… at least, until Kyle.

Now all I do is question what I have with Wendy and compare it to what I _could have_ with Kyle.

Oh, well.

I shouldn't think too hard about this stuff when I'm drunk.

"Hey, where's Wendy?" I ask, looking around the room.

"Dude, her, Bebe and Nichole left a while ago," Token laughs.

"Where'd they go?"

"Kitchen," Clyde supplies, jabbing his thumb towards the entrance.

I stand up, stumbling slightly, which entices laughter from the guys.

I ignore them, making my way into the kitchen, where I find Bebe, Wendy and Nichole all looking like they're in the middle of an important discussion.

"Am I interrupting anything?" I ask.

"Oh, hey, Stan," Bebe says offhandedly. "Not a thing."

"Hi, Stan," Wendy smiles.

"Feeling good, Stan?" Nichole asks as I waver back and forth.

"Yeah," I laugh, "but I'm sure I won't be feeling so hot in the morning."

We talk aimlessly for the next few minutes until a group of new arrivals enter the kitchen.

"Hi," Lexus simpers to everyone in the room, while clinging onto Butters. Butters looks like the happiest man in the fucking world. A moment later, Eric Cartman walks through.

"Sup, losers," Cartman grins, placing two alcohol bottles on the counter.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I growl, growing even angrier when I see who silently enters the room after Cartman – Kyle, who looks heavy eyed and messy haired.

I feel Wendy put her hand on my arm, like she's wordlessly trying to tell me to calm down.

"Marsh," Cartman greets, "And ladies. Don't you all look lovely."

Ugh, what an ass kisser.

"How sweet," Bebe smiles.

"I hope you don't mind if we mix ourselves a few drinks," he says.

"Not at all," Bebe says, fetching them some disposable cups.

Kyle offers me a tentative smile, which I'm too angry to return.

"Stan," Cartman says, calling me by my first name – which is something he rarely does anymore.

"What?" I hiss.

"What crawled up your ass and died? Jeez, I thought this was a party."

"It _is_ a party," Wendy says tersely, directing the comment as a warning in my direction.

"Well, then, Stan better calm the fuck down," he says, before turning to Kyle. "Kahl, what do you want?"

"Vodka… and make it heavy," Kyle says, sidling up next to Cartman, who shoots me an annoying smirk.

"The Jew likes his vodka," he notes.

He's doing this on purpose… he has to be. He's trying to rub his relationship with Kyle in my face.

I clench my fists and grind my teeth together.

Cartman continues to make Kyle, Butters, and Lexus all drinks before finally making himself one. He's playing the nice-guy tonight… I'm not going to fall for that shit.

Soon, the four of them leave the kitchen with their drinks and I am seething.

"Stan," Wendy scoffs. "What the _hell_ are you so angry about?"

"I don't fucking know," I grind my teeth together some more.

"Well… until you do know, go somewhere else," she crosses her arms.

"Fine," I growl.

Shit, no one wants me around. Not even my own girlfriend.

* * *

I leave the kitchen and scan the room for Kyle, but I don't see him. As a matter of fact, I don't see Butters either – just Cartman. He's talking with Clyde, who is laughing along to whatever he's saying.

I approach them, stomping across the room angrily.

"Marsh," Cartman says as I reach them.

"Stan?" Clyde asks. "What's up?"

"If looks could kill…" Cartman snorts, eying the expression I must be wearing.

"Let's fight," I say.

Cartman laughs boisterously before declining my offer, "No."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I'll kill you and then I'll get shit from your girlfriend."

I scoff, "Yeah, right, you wish!"

"Stan," Clyde says, patting my back, "you better settle down, buddy."

"Where's Kyle?" I ask, brushing Clyde off.

"I don't think you need to know," Cartman says.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because," he explains, "you're drunk and angry, you'll probably just end up screwing him up some more."

"Why the fuck do you give a shit what I do to him?" I ask, throwing expletives around. "You never fuckin' used to!"

Cartman sighs exasperatedly. "You don't get it, Stan," he says as if he's talking to someone mentally deficient, "It's true, I don't care what happens to him… but just as long as I'm the one to inflict it."

"You're so fucking sick," I shout, pushing him.

He just grins, hardly budging an inch. I guess with me being drunk and him being fat… a simple shove won't do much damage.

So I land a punch square in his smug fucking face and a fight ensues.

It's a sloppy, drunken fight. To be honest, it's also the first one I've ever been in… not counting small scuffles and the time I punched Kyle.

Cartman swings his fist into the side of my head, and I already feel a migraine coming on as I take a floor-dive.

He turns around and I kick the back of his knees, sending him onto the floor as well.

This is when Token and Clyde finally decide to break away from the crowd of watchful eyes and intervene.

"Okay, guys, that's enough," Token says.

Token pries Cartman away from me and Clyde pries me away from Cartman.

Well. That didn't last too long.

"Are you guys fucking finished?" Clyde asks us, visibly irritated.

"I am," Cartman says.

"Fine," I mumble, squirming out of Clyde's hold.

"Are we ready to be civil?" Cartman asks me as everyone goes back to minding their own damn business.

"I don't know – can _you_ be civil?" I cross my arms.

"Heh," Cartman grins, leaning in to whisper, "You're just mad I got there first."

"What?" I ask angrily.

"Oh, come on," he says in a quiet voice that only I can hear, "don't pretend you don't know. I'm sure he told you."

"Shut up," I hiss.

"Me and Kyle… we got… _close_… after you ditched him," Cartman smirks. "I'm sure if you wanted, he'd let you have a piece to."

I feel like choking. "Don't…" I growl under my breath.

"Don't what?"

"Don't talk about him like that!"

His smile widens at my outburst. "Kyle is on the front porch with Butters," he says before walking off.

I feel like such a choad.


	16. KB: Dead end

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Kyle –**

* * *

It's quieter out here. I think I prefer that than being inside with all the noise. There will probably be a fight or two as well. At parties like this, it's inevitable.

"What are you going to do about Eric?" Butters asks me.

We've been sitting out here for the past twenty minutes and he has kindly allowed me to vent about Cartman and Stan. I feel pathetic doing so, but Butters keeps insisting it's not a problem. Butters has known about the Cartman thing since it began. He's easy to talk to because I know that, no matter what I say, he won't judge me.

"I don't know," I sigh, hunching over and resting my elbows on my knees.

"Do you think you'd ever be able to have something with Stan?"

"No…" I admit sadly. "Stan is straight and dating Wendy. He isn't about to drop the girl he's been in love with for almost ten years just for me – I'm a dude."

Butters frowns, nodding along sympathetically.

"It sucks," I continue, "I thought I'd be able to get over him… but he's making things difficult just by being near me."

"But you said he didn't push you away when you made a move, right?"

"Right… but I think that was just something he was letting me to out of pity," I laugh at how pathetic it all sounds.

"Well, think positive!" Butters says. "Maybe Stan has been gay this whole time but just hasn't known it."

I laugh again, "Probably not, but thanks for the optimism."

A second later, the door opens behind us and I hear a familiar voice say my name. Speak of the devil.

I turn around and see Stan hovering in the doorway with a scowl on his face. He steps outside, shutting the door behind him.

"Hiya, Stan," Butters says.

"Butters, Kyle," he greets somewhat tersely.

"Hi," I say. "What's up? You look angry… still. And your cheek is red, what happened?"

"Cartman punched me."

"What, why?" I frown.

"Because I punched him."

"Tsk… Why would you go and do a thing like that?" I ask.

"Because."

"Oh," I say sarcastically, "that makes a world of sense."

Butters watches the conversation wordlessly, looking mildly uncomfortable at the same time.

"Hey… so… How'd you do on that test in Garrison's class?" I ask.

"I got a 67," he grits his teeth.

"Well… that's all right. It'll bring your mark up at least a little bit."

"I need to talk to you," Stan says, "and not about school crap."

"Then talk."

"Not here…" he gestures to Butters.

"Stan, Butters is my friend. Just say what you need to say here."

"Tsk," he clicks his tongue.

"Come on, don't be a fucking baby," I say.

He doesn't reply. Instead, he grabs me roughly by the arm, dragging me to my feet and down the driveway.

"Stan, stop!" I yell, pulling out of his grip. "What the fuck's wrong with you?"

He doesn't say anything at first; he just grabs both of my wrists and begins leading me towards his car.

"Get in."

"No, asshole," I growl, pushing him away.

"Get in," he repeats.

"Ask nicely," I cross my arms.

"Get in, _please_…"

"Stan," Butters cuts in, following us down the driveway. "Don't drive while you're drunk."

"I'm not going to drive anywhere! I just want to get some fuckin' privacy! Besides, who the fuck cares?" Stan asks. "People drive drunk around here all the fucking time and nothing happens. Barbrady is too stupid to give a shit and there's hardly anything to hit!"

"Stan, you better settle down," I try to reason with him. "If you do that, and if you promise not to drive… I'll get in the car so we can talk privately."

"Fine," he mumbles, digging his keys out of his pocket and unlocking the doors.

I turn to Butters, who looks like a concerned parent.

"Don't worry," I tell him, "we won't be long."

He nods, walking back up the driveway and taking a seat on the front steps.

I get in the passenger's seat while Stan gets in the driver's seat.

"So," I start, "What is it?"

"I don't want you to do that shit with Cartman anymore."

I laugh loudly, mostly out of disbelief. "Stan," I snort, "we aren't together! You don't own me. I can do whatever the hell I please."

"And does it _please_ you do do shit with the fat-ass?" he sneers.

"Maybe it does."

"That's just fucking disgusting, Kyle. I thought you were better than that."

"Yeah, well… I guess we're both disappointed, then."

"Is this your way of getting back at me?" he asks.

I raise an eyebrow, "Excuse me? It's not like I ever knew you'd find out!"

He throws his hands up in the air in frustration, and I feel myself flinch away from the gesture.

"What the fuck was that, Kyle?" he asks. "Did you think I was gonna smack you or somethin'?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," I smile sweetly.

"I thought I was forgiven?"

"I never said that," I say. "I said maybe you were, but now I'm not so sure you deserve it."

"Oh, yeah, sure, go ahead and play that card because you're so fuckin' perfect, right?"

"I never said I was."

It's uncomfortably silent again. I look away and glance out the window to where Butters is sitting on the steps. He's playing with his cellphone. I feel like I'm telepathically trying to get him to make eye contact with me and intervene but I know that's stupid and immature of me. I should be able to handle my own shit.

A split second later, I hear the car ignition and before I can jump out of the car, Stan is pulling out of the driveway.

That is when Butters head finally shoots up and he gives me a panicked look.

"Stan, you said you weren't going to drive!" I shriek, trying to stay calm. The last thing I need is a car accident.

"We're just going on a small drive," he says, as if that makes it okay.

I put on my seatbelt and shut my eyes, trying to swallow my fear.

"Drive slower…" I plead, clutching onto the arm rest.

"Calm down, we aren't gonna die," he insists.

Sure enough, we don't die. Instead, the car swerves off the road and into a nearby field with me screaming the entire time.

"Shit," Stan mumbles, slamming on the breaks as the car stops in the center of the field, tire marks all over the grass.

I put a hand to my chest and feel my heart violently palpitating.

"What the fuck?" I choke out, staring at him. "Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack!"

He rolls his eyes and I punch him hard in the shoulder.

"Ouch!" he grits out, rubbing the place my fist hit.

"Seriously, Stan," I hiss, "that wasn't fucking funny, you dick!"

He chuckles, turning the ignition off. "Yeah, it kind of was. You should've seen your face."

I scowl, mildly surprised I'm not crying by now.

"I feel better," he says.

"Well, isn't that fucking super," I growl.

He chuckles again. "I'm sorry, Kyle."

I know I should be mad. I know I have a right to be mad… but I can't be. I just melt into a pathetic and vulnerable pile in front of him.

He takes his seatbelt off and turns to me.

"What are we doing here, Stan?" I sigh. "Be honest."

"I wanna fuck you," he says blunty, and I can feel my heart beating throughout every inch of my body. I can almost hear it. I wonder if he can hear it, too.

"Right here? Right now? Stan, you're drunk," I laugh nervously, "and so am I… just nowhere near as drunk as you. I can still think and speak and walk coherently."

"So?" he shrugs, "Just because I'm drunk it doesn't necessarily mean I'm lying."

"You would regret it."

"No, I wouldn't."

"You would regret it," I repeat, "because you have a girlfriend, emphasis on the _girl_ part."

"I still want to."

I shake my head, "No, you don't."

"I thought you'd be down for it," he says, "I mean… considering what you did last time I was at your house."

For some reason, this is making me feel like shit...

"It was a selfish move on my part," I admit. "I wasn't thinking about you or Wendy. I was just thinking about myself."

"I liked it," he insists. "If I were sober, would you consider it?"

"I don't know… Maybe." Well, not maybe… I would _definitely_ consider it. It would be morally wrong… but it's something I've wanted for so damn long. I don't think I would be able to say no. I guess that makes me an awfully shitty person.

"Okay," he tells me. "I'm gonna ask you again when we're sober."

"Sure, Stan," I say somewhat dismissively. I doubt he will. He is pretty shy about this kind of stuff. "Let's head back now," I suggest, "And go slow this time."


	17. WT: Something about Kyle

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Thanks for the nice reviews ~ (:**

**Wendy –**

* * *

It's only a little past midnight and Butters came in frantic about a minute ago.

"Kyle got in the car with Stan! Stan is really drunk and he's driving! He's also really angry!" he said, waving his arms around.

I swear my heart stopped then and there.

Clyde, Token, Nichole, Bebe, Eric, and I all immediately flooded out the front door, attracting a crowd of other kids in the process.

"Where did they go?" I ask, shaking Butters by the collar.

"I don't know!" he says, holding his hands up.

I let go of him and collapse onto the pavement in a frantic mess.

What if Stan gets in a car crash and dies? I can't lose him…

What if Stan gets in a car crash and Kyle dies? Stan would never forgive himself.

What if they both die?

I don't want to think about it, but all these nasty possibilities keep forcing their way into my head.

Eric walks into the middle of the road and starts laughing.

"What is it?" Bebe asks.

"Stan has a red Mazda, right?"

"Yes, he does," I cut in hopefully.

"I see them coming," he points straight ahead before stepping back onto the curb side.

Bebe helps me stand and we all make room as that familiar red car pulls back into the driveway. I am overjoyed to see Stan and Kyle both alive and in one piece. I let out a sigh of relief and punch Stan in the arm when he gets out of the car.

"Asshole!" I shriek, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Ouch!" he whines, rubbing his arm. "Why does everyone keep hitting me!"

"Because you clearly deserve it," I snort, pressing myself into his chest and clutching his shirt. A second later, I feel his hands wrap around my shoulders.

"Sorry, babe," he says after we break apart. "Sorry I've been… kind of an ass tonight."

Token snorts, "Kind of an ass?"

"Try a huge ass," Clyde supplies.

"All right," Stan admits. "I've been a huge ass. I'm sorry."

"So are you feeling better now?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"I think so," he says, turning to smile at Kyle, who smiles back.

I guess they've sorted everything out on their little _joyride_… Though I can't help but wonder what was wrong in the first place. What could have made Stan so damn angry?

Kyle turns to Butters, giving him a pat on the shoulder. Butters shakes his head, but smiles nonetheless. "You two had me worried sick!"

"I know. Sorry, Butters," Kyle chuckles.

"Stanley Marsh," Butters points. "You aren't allowed to drink ever again."

Stan laughs awkwardly.

"I agree," I add, crossing my arms and giving him a stern look.

"I third that," Kyle says.

"Fourth," Clyde raises his hand.

"Fifth," Token nods.

"Sixth," Nichole laughs.

"Seventh," Bebe smirks.

"Well, there you have it," I say, though I know it probably isn't going to be that simple.

"Fine, jeez," Stan sighs, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "I guess I pretty much asked for this."

I nod unsympathetically.

At least he seems to be in a better mood. I'm glad, but it also makes me somewhat sad that I wasn't able to help his mood. I guess only Kyle was able to.

"Well," the redhead cuts in, "I should probably head home."

"Now?" Butters asks.

Kyle nods.

"You know," Bebe says, "You can always stay the night. There's room."

"It's cool," he shrugs walking down the driveway, "but thanks!" He raises his hand and waves to everyone before leaving.

Stan watches him as he walks away and he has a somewhat longing look in his eyes… Or maybe I'm just seeing things.

"Let's all get inside," Bebe suggests, ushering in the crowd of curious eyes.

"Good idea," I say, dragging Stan back into the party.

The night is still young, after all.

* * *

The rest of the party goes by smoothly. Stan is a lot happier and it's nice to have him finally acting like himself again.

People start leaving around 2 in the morning and people who stay start crashing around 4. Bebe offers Stan and I the spare bedroom, which we accept.

"Don't do anything naughty," she winks at us.

I laugh, "I think we're too drunk and tired to do any of that."

And I'm right. As soon as we enter the room, Stan collapses on the bed and is out like a light. I lay down next to him, but for some reason I have a hard time falling asleep right away.

I suppose I'm still worried about what happened tonight. I _know_ Stan. I may not know him as well as Kyle, but I know him well nonetheless. With minor difficulty, I can read him.

I shouldn't be worried, either way. I should just trust that Stan wouldn't do anything that would hurt me on purpose. I'm sure he is just happy to have Kyle back in his life, and they were just sorting out the final issues…

Yeah… That's probably all it is.

* * *

In the morning, I wake up before Stan, who is asleep and drooling against my shoulder. I gently move away so I won't wake him and make my way out of the room.

"Good morning," Clyde and Bebe greet me when I enter the kitchen.

"'Morning," I smile.

"Sleep okay?" Bebe asks.

"Yeah, thanks," I lie.

"Stan still unconscious?" Clyde asks.

"Yes," I laugh. "He was out like a light last night. I think he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow."

Clyde chuckles, "I'm not surprised… He had a pretty busy night last night."

"He sure did," I say, taking a seat at the table.

"Can I fix you anything to eat?" Bebe asks, "I'm making pancakes for me and Clyde.

"You guys aren't hung-over?"

"Nope," Bebe grins. "We're pro drinkers."

"Oh," I grimace.

"Are _you_ hung-over?"

"Only a bit… but I feel like if I eat anything too heavy I might just puke it up," I admit.

"Ah," she nods understandingly. "I'll get you a glass of water and some crackers to munch on."

"Thanks, that'd be perfect," I say as she fishes through cupboards. "So who else stayed overnight?"

"Token, Nichole, Eric, Butters, and Lexus," Bebe says. "Eric left about an hour ago with Butters and Lexus, though."

"Oh," I say.

Clyde snorts, "You should've seen Cartman's face. Stan gave him a pretty nice bruise."

"He did _what_?" I frown.

"Cartman probably gave Stan a good one, too, though, didn't he?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I didn't notice one… It was too dark. Why were they fighting?"

"I have no fucking clue," Clyde shrugs, "Stan just came out into the living room all angry after leaving the kitchen last night. I was talking to Cartman and Stan stomped over and picked a fight with him. Something about Kyle, I think? It was pretty random, if you ask me."

Tsk.

I shake my head, "What an idiot."


	18. SM: Guilty

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**LOL. Oh Stan, you dork. Awkward sex ahead. **

**Stan –**

* * *

I've been trying hard to be the perfect boyfriend. After Kyle and I got back to the party, I forced myself to put on a happy face and put on a good show. I even stayed the next day to help Bebe clean up the house.

I feel like I'm overcompensating. Well, I _know_ I'm overcompensating. I've cheated on Wendy, and now I just keep trying to make her happy as if it might make things okay. I know it won't… I know it won't because I'm going to do it again.

Fuck, I'm such a shitty person. I'm the worst.

The week is going by slowly – almost painfully so. It's Thursday and everyone is still talking about my behaviour at the party… though the words got quite a bit twisted the more they got passed around.

People are now saying that I'm a bad boyfriend… though, the people who know me personally know that's not true at all and are trying to put a damper on the rumors.

Kyle is also getting a fair bit of unwanted attention since he was in the car when I pulled into the driveway.

I'm pretty fucking embarrassed remembering all the stupid shit I said and how much of an asshole I was that night… But I meant what I said to Kyle… though I'm not sure I would have been able to say it in the first place without the alcohol.

Speaking of Kyle, I'm going over to his place after school. I told him I wanted to study, but I really want to… well… yeah. Jeez, I can hardly say it in my head; I don't know how I'm going to say it out loud to him again.

"You look worried," Token says as we walk to our last class of the day.

"I am," I say without thinking.

"What about?"

"Oh, just school and shit…" I fib, though school is the least of my worries right now.

"Yeah, people are ragging on you lately."

"I wish they'd stop," I mumble.

"They will… _eventually_," he snorts.

* * *

After school I meet Kyle, Bebe and Wendy at my car. Bebe's heading to Wendy's, so I offered to drive them both there.

"Hi, Kyle," Bebe smiles somewhat creepily. She looks like a lecherous old man.

"Hi, Bebe," he smiles in return, oblivious to her obviously perverted intentions.

"Can you turn around for a sec?"

"Er… why?" he asks.

"I'll tell you after," she shrugs nonchalantly.

"Well… all right," he says, turning around. God, he's naïve!

Bebe grins perversely, eying his ass.

"Now can you bend over?" she chuckles.

"Hey!" he spins around, finally catching on. He gives her a look of bemused shock.

"Please?"

"No!"

She laughs into her hands, hopping in the back seat without another word.

"Did you really just do that?" he asks, getting in next to her.

She snickers, "Sorry, not sorry."

Wendy and I share a dry look that says we are both far less surprised than Kyle.

"So how was everyone's day?" I ask once we're all settled in the car.

"Good," they all say in unison.

"That's good."

"I got an A on my English test," Bebe adds.

"Oh, that's good," Kyle says, impressed. "Stan, what did you get?"

"Er… a C plus," I mumble.

"Well, that's… not bad," he considers. "Which unit are you guys doing?"

Kyle doesn't take English with us – he takes advanced English because he likes the challenge. I wouldn't be able to handle that course. Apparently it's pretty heavy duty with lots of reading and writing. I hate that stuff.

"Shakespeare," she says.

"I hate Shakespeare," I grimace.

Kyle laughs, "I'm not too fond of him either, to be honest."

"It's like… once you've read one play, you've read most of them," I say.

"Fair enough. Shakespeare is definitely an acquired literary taste."

"I never understand what he's trying to say," I admit.

"Try reading it out loud," Kyle explains. "Somehow, it helps."

"Seriously?" I ask.

"Seriously."

We all continue to mindlessly talk about school-related crap until I pull into Wendy's driveway.

"So what're you two up to now?" I ask Bebe and Wendy.

"We're going to do our homework then probably watch a movie," Wendy shrugs.

"Sounds fun," I say, leaning in to give her the expected parting kiss. We don't share I love you's and I think Kyle notices this, because he gives me a bemused look after they leave. He gets out of the back seat and joins me up front after they're gone. He aimlessly plays with the radio, pausing when the song "Coffee Break" by Forever the Sickest Kids comes on.

He frowns, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. "Kenny sang this song at the school talent show once," he says quietly.

"Yeah…" I mumble, "I remember."

I see Kenny up there on that stage singing with his crusty, old guitar that he bought for ten bucks at a thrift store. These lyrics were Kenny's life story. The song is sad enough as it is without the damn memory that we have attached to it. I can still picture that night vividly.

I wonder if Kenny was happy. I wish I spoke to him a little more… I have so many damn regrets. I'd like to visit him soon. I haven't been around in so long, but I can't bring myself to go alone.

I miss him.

We drive silently until the song is over and Kyle then clears his throat before turning the radio off.

"You didn't kill him," I say.

"Okay," he whispers.

"You didn't."

"Okay."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Okay."

"Jeez, Kyle, I'm sorry I ever said it was."

"It's okay, Stan."

"Is it really?"

He laughs quietly, "Yeah… deep down, I think I know that it wasn't my fault. I mean, it's not like I pushed him, right? It's just hard to say it out loud after hearing so many times that it _was_ my fault."

"I'm sorry," I say again.

"You've already apologized enough."

"I don't feel like I have."

"You have," he laughs again, "trust me – I'm the one who hears it."

"All right," I relent.

"It means something that you finally did try to fix things," he says.

"Is it working?" I ask.

"Maybe… but not in the way I expected it would go if it ever did happen."

I can't help but agree with that…

* * *

When we arrive to Kyle's place, we retreat to his room where we begin to study.

To be honest, I've been doing a lot better in school and earlier today the coach informed me I'm no longer in danger of being kicked off the football team. Kyle seemed proud when I told him that. I'm pretty proud, myself.

We study for an hour, and the entire time I'm trying to gather up the courage to tell him I still want to sleep with him.

_Sex_.

I want to have _sex_ with Kyle.

Ugh.

I feel nauseous.

"Stan," Kyle says my name in a scolding tone before looking at me, "You haven't really been paying attention, have you?"

"Sort of…"

"What's up?" he asks.

Okay, it's now or never.

"You know when I was drunk last weekend?" I begin.

"Yes?"

"You know what I said to you when we were out in the middle of that field?"

"You said a lot of things."

"Well…" I pause, "that thing… that I wanted to do… with you…?"

He smiles at my awkwardness. "I'm not sure I know what you are talking about, Stan. You might have to elaborate a little more."

I close my eyes, feeling my heart race.

"I'm waiting," he says, and I can practically hear the amusement in his tone.

"Okay," I say, looking back up at him. "I wanna… sleep with you…"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Kyle puts his pencil down and says, "So… should we take a study break then?"

"You're down?"

"Yeah, I'm down," he says, standing up and locking the door.

I put a hand on my stomach, feeling all knotted inside. I feel nervous – though I don't know why. It's just Kyle… my _ex_ super best friend Kyle.

"Oh," I say. "Are your parents here?"

"Naw," he shakes his head, "just Ike."

"So… we should be quiet?"

"I guess… but it probably doesn't matter."

I make a face, "He's your brother though… isn't that awkward?"

He shrugs. "He knows what goes down."

"Are you, like, a weirdo exhibitionist?"

"Not at all," he snorts, crossing his arms. "So how do you want to do this?"

"Er," I choke out, "I don't know… I've never…"

_I've never done it with a dude; I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to be doing. _

He smirks, getting the message. "It's fine, I'll do everything… you just sit back and enjoy yourself."

Moments later, I watch him undress – tugging his t-shirt off and dropping his pants like it's no big deal, revealing his slender and pale body in its entirety.

"Can you turn around?" I ask as he pulls his socks off.

He gives me a look of humour before doing so.

Yeah… Bebe would definitely be jealous of me right about now.

"Nice," I mumble after he turns back around.

He chuckles, moving towards where I'm sitting on the bed. He pushes me back onto a pillow as he leans down and says, "Remember, we can stop at any time."

"I won't want to," I assure him before closing the gap between us. I have a really intense feeling in my gut – I don't know if I can explain it. It's like… excited, nervous and horny all rolled into one.

"I feel like… kind of sick," I say when we break apart; my hands are shaking with anxiety. "Like I might hurl."

Kyle just laughs, reaching over me, towards his night stand. "What a turn on!" he jokes, opening up a bottle. "Knowing how you are, I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"What's that stuff for?" I ask as he coats his fingers with it.

He chuckles, "You really don't know a thing about how sex between two guys works, do you?"

"Well… no."

To be honest I hardly knew how it worked between a guy and a girl until Wendy showed me. We didn't learn much from Sex Ed in elementary school and my parents refused to say a word to me. You don't learn shit from porn, either.

Ah, Wendy…

I'm not going to think about her right now and I'm not going to think about how morally wrong this is.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Just watch," Kyle murmurs, setting the bottle down on the bed. His fingers disappear behind him and his facial expression changes.

Oh.

So _that's_ what he's doing. He's definitely not shy and for some reason, it surprises me.

He lets out a shuddery moan and begins to rub his junk with the hand that isn't already preoccupied. I feel myself blush as I watch, not quite understanding how he isn't blushing too.

Soon he removes the fingers and settles between my knees, undoing the button on my jeans. "You're sure you want to do this?" he asks, pulling down the zipper.

"Yeah," I manage to say. I lift my hips as he pulls my jeans and boxers down to my mid-thighs.

"Mm," Kyle muses to himself.

I feel my face heat up even more as he touches me.

"Okay?" he asks.

"Yeah…" I say hoarsely.

He reaches towards the night table again and pulls a condom out of the drawer.

When I'm sufficiently hard, he rolls it on and then reaches for the bottle, pouring the stuff into his hand again. "You're blushing furiously," he smiles, coating my dick with the lubricant and moving his hands up and down.

"I know," I force out a laugh while stifling a moan.

"I didn't take you for the shy type."

"I'm not… usually…" I admit.

He snickers before getting onto his knees and lowering himself slowly onto my lap.

"F-fuck…" he hisses.

It's weird seeing this side of Kyle – weird… and hot. Really hot.

I relax against the pillow, running my hands over his thighs and up his pale, flat stomach. He's soft… smooth… warm.

He begins to roll his hips and it feels good. It feels different, too… a lot different than it is with Wendy.

Wendy…

Shit.

* * *

Kyle steadies himself by putting his hands on my shoulders and pushes down again, quickening his rhythm.

"I'm gonna…" I trail off, panting as a warm and familiar feeling begins to pool in my groin. "Aahhh… fuck," I hiss out, almost forgetting about Ike. I really hope he can't hear us. Kyle might not care, but I kind of do. How awkward would that be? Because I just know Ike would call me out on it when Kyle wasn't around… He's the kind of kid who thinks everything is his business, even when it's not.

Kyle lifts himself off of my lap and settles on the bed. He strokes his own cock until his hips jerk and his toes curl. He lets out a long, quiet moan, coming all over his stomach.

If I didn't feel so damn shy I might have offered to get him off… but I can't even move and I'm betting my cheeks are still pink. I've never touched another guy before. I wonder if it'd be the same as touching myself?

Kyle pants, leaning his head against the wall. When he glances over at me, he smiles, probably noticing my blushing face. He dips his fingers in the mess, bringing them to his mouth and looking at me the entire time. I think he's _trying_ to get a rise out of me.

"Mm…" he moans, briefly shutting his eyes.

"Dude…" I mumble.

He laughs, sounding somewhat out of breath. "Does Wendy give you blowjobs?"

"Once in a while," I shrug. To be honest, she doesn't really like to it that much and I respect that. I probably won't be jumping to suck Kyle's dick anytime soon, either.

"It's basically the same thing as a blowjob," he reasons.

"I guess so," I shrug. "What's it taste like?"

"Wanna try?" he wiggles his fingers at me.

"Er… no thanks."

Kyle fetches a tissue box from his desk and we both clean ourselves off.

"You're so funny," he says after we are both spooge-free.

"Why's that?" I ask, buttoning my jeans back up.

"You're just… so shy," he says, looking highly bemused.

"Well… I can't help it. I was shy with Wendy at first, too. It's not like I do it on purpose," I admit somewhat defensively.

"No," he laughs, "It's okay. I like it. It's cute."

And probably a hell of a lot different than the way Cartman is…

"You are the opposite of shy," I note, sitting at the edge of his bed.

"I know," he snorts.

"Do you…err… do _this_ a lot?" I ask carefully.

"I don't know," he pauses, "Probably about as much as you do it with Wendy."

"Oh… Is it just with Cartman?"

"I knew that question was coming," he mumbles. "Yes, it's just with Cartman. It's never been with anyone else until now."

"You lost your virginity to Cartman?" I ask in mild disbelief – jeez, as if this entire situation wasn't weird enough already.

"Yes," he says tersely, "and he didn't lose his to me."

"That makes you mad?"

"Well… yeah…" he admits, "though I'm not sure why. It shouldn't make me mad. I mean, I'm not into him or anything… It's probably just because I lost my virginity to him. It would have been nice for it to have been mutual, I guess. It would be one less thing for him to hold over me."

"Oh," I frown. "You're sure you don't like him or anything?"

Kyle laughs, "I don't like him like that, trust me."

"Does he like you, then?"

"No, he doesn't like me, either," Kyle admits. "He's straight, I'm pretty sure. I know he's slept with girls. I think he just wanted to have sex with me so he could rub it in my face later on… which he does… quite frequently. You know how he was when we were young… It was all about humiliation."

I grimace. "Kyle, that's just not right at all."

"Yeah, well…" he shrugs, "it isn't all bad. I think we are both using each other. I want comfort and he wants a sadistic sort of pleasure. He's fucked up like that, and I guess I am, too."

"Gross," I say, "and you don't mind it?"

"Not really," Kyle shrugs again. "Anyway, how did you find it?"

"Find what?"

"The sex."

"You're, like… really good," I tell him.

He chuckles.

"It was nice… different, as well," I say, unsure of how else to describe it.

"Yeah, same."

"Different in a good way, though," I specify.

"Yeah."

"I thought it was going to be really awkward… It was awkward, yeah, but it wasn't as awkward as I thought."

I was probably an awful lay, but shit… this kind of thing is nerve-wracking for me.

"Sex can be fun and it can be funny," Kyle says. "You can't take it too seriously because it is very rarely the way it is in the movies. If you expect it to be, you'll just be disappointed."

"Yeah," I agree, "I think that's what a lot of people don't get. People always have high expectations. Not everyone has porn star abilities."

Kyle nods, "it can be tough to live up to high expectations and in turn, and people will end up feeling poorly about themselves."

"So… is Cartman encouraging?" I ask. "Is that why you're so confident?"

"You're not gonna let this Cartman thing go, are you?" he sighs.

"It's just difficult to process…"

Kyle rolls his eyes.

"Are you, er, going to get dressed?" I ask, eyeing him up and down. "What if your parents come home?"

"I have a lock, remember?" he says, jabbing his thumb towards the door. "But if it will make you feel more comfortable, I will get dressed."

I let out a sigh. He's probably never going to let me live my shyness down.

"So," Kyle starts, as he begins to pull his clothing back on, "how guilty do you feel on a scale of one to ten? One being not so guilty and ten being very guilty."

"I don't want to think about it," I groan.

"Well, you're going to have to soon enough," he says as he finishes getting redressed, "and so will I…"

"Yeah," I mumble.

"Let's get back to studying," he offers, getting the books back out.

Jesus Christ.

I've dug myself into yet another hole. Awesome.


	19. KB: About the other night

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Kyman ahead. If you hate it, then skip to the page break :P **

**Kyle –**

* * *

Me and Stan…

I didn't think _that_ would happen in a million years. If some omniscient being was to tell me a few months ago that I'd be getting it on with Stan, then I would have laughed right in their face.

We studied for another half an hour after I got dressed. Stan was pretty shy about the whole thing, which I thought was funny.

Cartman is definitely the opposite of shy. Then again, so am I… and maybe it _is_ thanks to Cartman. At the same time, I've always had a fairy neutral body image. I guess it just improved after I started sharing that part of myself with another person.

Cartman had the ability to either make me or break me. He could have done what he did, or he could have made me feel like shit about myself. He didn't do that, though, and for that I'll give him some credit.

Stan hasn't spoken to me since I let him fuck me and it's been almost a week! At least Cartman never did that.

I feel angry at Stan, though I know I have no right to be. He isn't my boyfriend and we don't have any commitment to one another. What did I think was going to happen? I'd let Stan try me out and he'd drop Wendy? Psh.

Maybe he regrets it?

Then again, if he does, it's not my problem.

Actually, that's a lie. It is kind of my problem. It's my problem because Stan cheated on his girlfriend with _me_. I know that once she finds out, I'll get an earful from her and Bebe both.

"Hey," I hear a familiar voice call as I reach my locker.

I wish it was Stan… but it's Cartman.

"Cartman," I greet nonchalantly, shoving a textbook in my locker.

"Want to skip your last class?" he suggests.

"No," I say.

"Come on, Jew."

"No," I say again, though my next period is just math and I'm way ahead of the rest of the class.

"Come on," he repeats, "you look like you need a distraction."

"Ohoh," I laugh my locker and turn to face him. "And you are offering to be that distraction?"

"Yeah, so maybe I am?"

"Well, okay," I say, accepting the offer for what I know it is.

Two minutes later we're seated in his car.

Five minutes later we arrive at his empty house.

Ten minutes later we're shrugging our clothes off, tossing them onto the floor and -

"This is fun, isn't it Kahl? Much better than math class," he snickers. "Have you let Stan do this to you yet?"

"Sh-shut up, f-fucking fat-ass," I gasp out, groaning.

He chuckles, rocking his hips back and forth.

I moan into the pillow, hoping that Liane doesn't come home. I'd never recover if she saw me in this position… though, to be honest, she probably wouldn't give a damn. She is nonchalant about most things… and well, she is a prostitute. I know for a fact that she's seen and done worse than I could ever imagine doing.

I close my eyes, as Cartman grabs me by the hips – preventing me from lurching forward as he moves.

"Even if you do have a go with Marsh," he begins, "it won't be as good as this."

"You talk too much," I tell him.

* * *

After we get cleaned off, we get redressed and make our way back downstairs.

"Hello, boys," Liane smiles at us when we reach the bottom of the staircase.

Oh.

Fuck.

I glance over at Cartman, giving him a look of horror and he just laughs, slapping me on the back.

"Did you two have fun playing?" she asks.

"Yeah," Cartman snickers as I almost choke, "we had lots of fun _playing_, but Kyle has to go now. I'm going to drive him home since he hurt his ass."

I punch him in his chubby gut before turning to Liane and saying, "Bye, Ms. Cartman."

"Bye, dear," she smiles.

I leave the house and turn to Cartman. "Holy fuck! I bet you knew she was home!"

"God, Kahl, no I didn't. Calm your tits."

I grumble as we get into his car. "I don't even want to begin to imagine what would happen if we were at my house and that was my mother."

"Well… your mom is a bitch, so we'd probably both be dead… Or she'd just accuse me of fuckin' raping you and try to get me sent away."

"Don't call my mom a bitch!" I shout defensively, though what he's saying _is_ highly probable.

Well… she may be a little unnecessarily strict, but she's my mom. I can't just sit back while he mouths off.

"But she is one," he says starting the car and pulling out of the driveway.

"And your mom is a fucking prostitute but you don't hear me going around whining about it."

To be honest, I really like Liane and I don't care that she's a prostitute.

"Shut up," he murmurs tersely, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It's the only thing he's really sensitive about – his mom and her career.

"Now you know how it feels," I say, crossing my arms. Sure, it's immature… but our arguments are almost always immature.

"You know," he says offhandedly, "my mom doesn't care about that kind of shit."

"What kind of shit?" I ask.

"If I bring someone home to fuck."

"I know…"

"She doesn't care, but not for the reasons you think," he gives me a quick glance before looking back at the road.

"Then why?"

"Sex is supposed to be safe, right?"

"Right," I agree.

"A lot of parents are fucking stupid when it comes to that – they think if they don't allow their kids to do that sort of shit in the house then they just won't do it. They'll guilt them about how disappointed they'd be if they go have sex and they think that'll stop them. They're wrong. Obviously kids are going to fuck each other, no matter how much the parents don't want them to, and they'll likely end up doing it in the riskiest place possible to avoid being found out," he shrugs. "My mom was upfront about it. She says she knows I'm going to do it and she'd rather I do it in the house then at some random-ass party or out in the damn woods. If parents really care about their fuckin' kids, they should just tell them to stay in the house, too."

"That actually makes a surprising amount of sense," I admit.

I think my own mother would slay me if she knew I ever had sex in the house. She would probably just look at it as blatant disrespect towards her and my father.

"Yeah," he nods, "I want to be that kind of parent. I wouldn't want to scare my kids away like that and have them fuckin' around in flop houses and shit."

"You want to be a parent?" I ask, quite surprised.

"Maybe someday," he shrugs, "when I find a girl who's good enough for me."

I snort, rolling my eyes.


	20. WT: There's nothing left

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**I've been working so much lately so I'm probably slacking with updates :b **

**Wendy –**

* * *

"Is that a hickey on Kyle Broflovski's neck?" Token asks the following morning.

"What?" Stan's head snaps backwards to look at the redhead walking down the hallway, oblivious to the attention.

"Ah, it's good to see the little man's getting some action," Token chuckles.

Stan is frowning.

I don't know why.

* * *

"Kyle has a hickey," I say to Bebe later on in the day.

"So?" she shrugs. "I mean, we're almost eighteen. Like many of us, he's probably getting some action. Good for him. Though I have to say, whoever he's sleeping with… is pretty damn lucky to get to see his ass naked."

"Oh my God, Bebe," I shake my head at her, unable to stifle a little laugh.

She smirks, shrugging.

"You have no shame!"

"I know," she admits.

"I guess it's not a bad thing," I chuckle. "I wonder who he's with…"

"Does it matter?" she asks.

"What if it's Stan?"

"Wendy, honey, look at it this way – if Stan is stupid enough to cheat on you, then he isn't worth keeping. You deserve better than that and don't waste time trying to get him back once he's gone."

"I know," I sigh. "It's just so strange."

I'm going to need to talk with him about this sooner or later. I can't keep stressing out over what could be nonsense.

"Go find him," Bebe suggests.

And so I do.

I find him at his locker, pulling out a textbook for his last class.

"Stan?" I say his name as I approach him.

"Hey, babe, what's up?" he asks, closing his locker.

"Why did you look unhappy when you saw Kyle's… hickey… this morning?"

He makes a face. "Because of who he got it from…"

"Well, who did he get it from?"

"It isn't my business to share," he says, "I don't even think I'm supposed to know about it. I just ended up finding out... accidentally, you could say."

"Oh," I frown. "Was it from a girl or a boy?"

He shrugs off the question.

"Stan? Is Kyle gay?"

"Why does it matter, Wendy?" he asks, exasperated. "You keep asking…"

"I'm just curious."

"If I tell you will you stop asking about it and swear not to tell anyone like Clyde, who would tell the whole fuckin' world?"

"I promise," I say.

He looks around the hallway, making sure no one is within an earshot before he starts to speak. "Yes, Kyle is gay," he tells me, "I'm the first person he told back when we were thirteen. He didn't want to tell me. He thought I was going to hate him for it. He was pretty upset. I just told him it was fine, y'know. I didn't really care either way. I told him it didn't matter and we played video games."

"That was nice of you," I say.

"I guess," he agrees, "but it was also the right thing. I did a lot of wrong, but… I think I did okay back then."

"I think so, too."

He smiles, shrugging. "I have a lot to make up for, though."

"You're working on it, right?"

"Yeah."

I give a solid nod. "Hey, Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Kyle hooking up with someone we know?"

"Tsk," he sighs. "Wendy, I can't tell you… like, I seriously can't tell you."

"But why?"

"It isn't my business. Kyle would slay me."

"Okay," I relent.

I really need to stop getting so worked up over this…

"So, do you need a ride after school?" he offers.

"No," I shake my head, "Bebe and I are heading to the mall."

"I can drive you. It's not a problem."

"Well, sure. If you insist," I say, accepting his offer.

* * *

The school day comes to an end and Stan drives Bebe and me to the mall.

"Have fun," he says, giving me a long kiss.

"I will," I smile once we part.

"C'mon," Bebe says after Stan drives off, "let's get Frappuccinos."

We walk into the mall and up to the Harbucks in the food court. I order caramel while Bebe gets strawberry.

"So did you talk to Stan yet?" she asks once we settle down at a table with our drinks.

"I asked him about Kyle," I admit.

"And?"

"Kyle is gay," I say.

"Really?" Bebe asks, taking a sip on her drink. She doesn't sound all that surprised.

"Why aren't you surprised?"

She shrugs, "I guess I just don't care about it as much as you. Good for him, though. Whoever is pounding his butt has quite a sweet view."

I almost choke on my drink. "Bebe!"

She just laughs. I think she's _trying_ to get a reaction from me.

"How do you know he's on the bottom, anyway?" I ask after recovering. "Maybe he's in on top."

"Just a guess, I suppose. He could be on top, or even in a versatile relationship. Though… not going to lie, I can see him being quite the little power bottom."

"Okay, I think we should definitely change the subject away from Kyle's bed behaviour," I insist, feeling somewhat uncomfortable delving into his intimate life like that.

Bebe laughs again. "Aw, Wendy, you're no fun at all!"

I laugh along with her. "Stan knew since he was thirteen. I guess Kyle just wanted it to be kept quiet."

"I can't blame him," Bebe says, "kids can be mean about this sort of stuff."

"Yeah," I agree with a frown. "I feel sort of bad that I convinced Stan to tell me something Kyle probably didn't want him to."

"Well, he didn't have to tell you."

"I suppose… He probably just felt obligated since he's my boyfriend. Promise you won't tell anyone Kyle is gay?"

"I promise," she nods. Bebe got a lot better at keeping secrets as we grew up. She never used to be good at it. "Did he tell you who Kyle was sleeping with?"

"No," I shrug.

"I'll admit that I'm a little curious..."

"Me too," I say. "I was being pretty annoying, nagging him about the whole thing... I know it's really none of my business what Kyle does… or who."

"Yeah," Bebe agrees, "but you're worried. It's understandable that you'd get a little curious."

"I wish I could calm down about it," I sigh. "It's probably nothing at all, but the fear is still there in the back of my mind and I keep asking myself 'what if' and I get even more worked up."

"Maybe, and that's why you need to talk with him about it. I mean, you can't keep this up. It's not healthy. Just be upfront over it."

"I've been thinking a lot about our relationship lately…" I admit, "I wonder if breaking up with him would be the best idea."

"Are you happy, Wendy?"

"No," I sigh, "I don't think I am. At least, not anymore. When I think about it, I feel like I haven't truly been happy with him in a long time and maybe our entire relationship has been so incredibly shallow. I mean, if I'm getting worked up like this over something as silly as Stan becoming friends with Kyle again, then, as you've said before, there's clearly something not quite right."

Bebe nods sympathetically as she listens.

"I mean… I know Stan doesn't mean any harm. He's a good person with a good heart, but sometimes he does things that unintentionally do harm people. He drinks a lot and he's a very volatile drunk, but he's never directed violence towards me no matter how angry he got. It might be silly to believe he's cheating on me with Kyle, but I can't help noticing the little things he does and overanalyzing them. It's all I can see. We haven't... been _physical_... in a little while. He used to be… very enthusiastic and eager," I say.

Bebe chuckles.

"I'm not trying to say he's getting it from somewhere else, but I'm saying it's more the fact that he doesn't seem to care. Our relationship just seems like it's falling apart. I know that he probably senses this as well. He's just…" I pause, "He just might not be the right person for me. We might not be the right people for each other."

And it feels good to finally admit that out loud with confidence instead of keeping it to myself.

By admitting it, I'm really not sure it's worth trying to fix things with him this time.


	21. SM: I don't know what to do

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Stan –**

* * *

It's getting difficult to be around Wendy. I feel so guilty I can hardly stand to look at her... I don't know what to do.

I walk down the hallway in time to see Cartman putting Kyle in a chokehold.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yell as I approach them.

Cartman lets Kyle go and turns to me, "We're just playin'. No big deal."

"Jesus Christ," I say, "that didn't look like playing."

"It didn't feel like playing either," Kyle coughs, rubbing his neck. "I couldn't breathe, fat-ass!"

Cartman shrugs. "Manson once said, '_Put a plastic bag over your head and you'll quickly learn what God is. God is Air.'_"

"So you were trying to show me what God is, then?" Kyle asks dryly.

"No," Cartman shakes his head, "I was showing you that I am your God."

Kyle rolls his eyes. "And dude, did you seriously just quote Charles Manson?"

"Say what you want about him, the man knows things."

"You would think that… sick bastard."

I watch their back and forth before cutting in. "Kyle," I say, "can I come over after school?"

"Why?" he asks, "you're finally speaking to me again?"

"Yeah… sorry."

"Come over in a little while," he says.

"Yeah," Cartman interrupts with a smug smirk, "I'll be there before then."

I want to punch him. I know he's trying to rub it in my face… it's pissing me off.

* * *

When I finally do go to Kyle's house, Cartman is already gone and Ike informs me Kyle just stepped in the shower yet again.

"Cartman is fucking your brother, you know," I say spitefully.

"Yeah… I know," Ike admits.

"And you're okay with it?" I ask.

"Well, it isn't my business. It's weird, that's for sure… but if Kyle likes it, then I'm okay with it," he shrugs. "Pretty much everyone has sex… it's natural."

"Hmph… there's nothing natural about Cartman and Kyle."

"Does it bother you?"

"Yes," I say tersely.

"It's selfish of you not to want him to sleep with other people when you're the one with the girlfriend. As long as you aren't tied down, there's nothing wrong with multiple partners. He's not tied down and neither is Cartman… but you are."

"How do you know about –"

"I heard you guys," Ike cuts me off. "I'm young, but I'm far from stupid. I know about these things."

"Am I about to get an earful from you?"

"No," he shakes his head, "just be careful what you do, because he has a lot of vulnerability when it comes to you."

"Even now?" I ask

"Even now," he confirms, "so don't play around with him. If you don't intend to be with him, don't keep dragging him along on a string like this."

"I know," I mumble before turning and running up the stairs.

Christ, that little kid is uncomfortable to talk to sometimes.

I toss my jacket on Kyle's desk chair and sit down on his bed… the bed Cartman probably just fucked him on.

Shit, it's really bothering me. I can't let it go.

I think back to when I fucked Kyle – the way he looked and sounded… It might sound selfish, but I want to be the only one to see him like that.

It's unfair of me. I can't find it in me to end things with Wendy, yet I want to keep Kyle to myself as well…

A few minutes later, Kyle walks into the room wearing a towel around his waist and using another to dry his hair.

"Hey!" I say.

"AHH!" he yells, flinging the towel into the air. "Jesus Christ, Stan!" he shrieks when he spots me.

I snicker, "Sorry. Did I scare you?"

"Just a bit," he mumbles tersely, bending over to pick up the towel and set it on the chair.

I stand up and wander towards him.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I've noticed something," I put my hands on his shoulders.

"What about?" he gives me a weird look.

"You've just… you've changed a lot and it seems sudden, but the only reason it seems sudden is because I missed it. I wasn't there as you were changing."

"Shut the fuck up," he says; pushing his face into my sweater.

"Okay," I laugh softly dragging him towards the bed with me. He lets out a surprised sound as we fall backwards onto the mattress. "Wait," I whisper when I feel him try to get up. "Stay."

"But I have to get dressed…" he trails off.

"I don't mind… you're comfortable," I say, shutting my eyes and wrapping my arms around him.

"Hmph," he grumbles slightly, relenting and lying back down on me.

I run my hand down the small of his back. He really is soft.

"Kyle," I say.

"What?"

"Sorry for not talking to you sooner."

"I know, Stan." He sounds somewhat exasperated.

"I've just been thinking a lot," I admit.

"I assumed as much," he says, lifting his head to look at me. "What have you been thinking about?"

"Not now," I pause. "I don't want to talk about it just yet."

"All right, fair enough."

He shifts upward and presses his lips against mine.

My hands wander down his back, grabbing a handful of his towel-clad ass.

He moans into my mouth. That's encouraging.

I decide to be bold and let my hands feel him beneath the towel.

We break apart and I ask, "Is this okay?"

Kyle pauses before shaking his head. "No. You're an awful kisser, Stan, and an even worse fuck," he solemnly states, "I don't know how Wendy puts up with you."

"What?" I deadpan with a scowl. "And Cartman is much better?"

"I'm just kidding!" he laughs. "It feels good."

"Am I better than Carman?" I ask.

"Jesus Christ, I don't know… Don't ask me this shit."

"… You should stop having sex with Cartman."

"Stan," he sighs, "you can't ask that of me. You have no right."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because," he starts, "you are having sex with Wendy."

"Well… I haven't in a while… But what if I stopped?"

"You'd break up with her for me?" he raises an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I believe that."

I scrunch up my face before letting out a sigh. "I don't know if I _can_ break up with her."

"Do you want to?"

"…I don't know," I admit, "I don't know what I feel… It's what I'm trying to figure out."

And if I'm going to be honest, the idea of being gay scares me. It would be so much easier to just stay with Wendy and do this with Kyle on the side… but I know how bad that would be. Things are bad enough.

"Well, if you're going to stay with Wendy, then we can't do this again. You'll need to tell her what we did, too. And even if you do break up with her, she still deserves to know why."

"I know," I sigh, still feeling up his ass.

"Mm..."

"Does Cartman do this to you?" I ask. "Or does he skip that step?"

"Stan," he says in between breaths, "don't g-go there today."

"Fine," I relent.

He lets out another soft moan.

I open my mouth to say something else, only to be cut off by a new voice.

"Ohoh, naughty! I didn't know you two had this sort of relationship with him, too! Damn, Kahl, you sure do get around. Who else are you fuckin'?"

I feel my neck crack as my head spins towards the doorway, where Cartman is standing.

"Oh, my God!" Kyle shouts, quickly wriggling out of my arms and getting off the bed, kneeing my balls in the process.

"Ughnn," I groan, cupping my crotch, "Dude…!"

Cartman starts laughing.

"Sorry," Kyle snickers, while tugging his towel back into place only to have it ripped off by Cartman.

"Hey!" he shrieks.

"What?" Cartman asks innocently. "Clearly the secrets out, right? We've all seen it before, so there's no need to be shy now."

Kyle mumbles another insult as he walks over to his closet, quickly getting dressed. Cartman's eyes linger until he's finished, and I'm not gonna lie… so do mine.

Yeah…

Cartman _definitely_ ruined the mood… but maybe it's for the best.

"How the hell did you even get in here?" I growl at him.

"Ike let me in," he says, wandering towards Kyle's desk. "I forgot my wallet, see?" he picks the wallet up and waves it around.

"Tsk," Kyle mumbles.

"Can you, like, leave?" I ask.

Cartman holds up his hands, "Sorry, sorry, I didn't think I'd be interrupting something."

Kyle laughs uncomfortably.

"You better not tell anyone about this," I warn, sitting up as Kyle makes his way back over and settles down beside me.

Cartman is still grinning. I don't know why he finds this so fucking amusing.

"So how much will you pay me not to tell Testicle-Burger what I'm seeing?"

"Tsk, Cartman!" I growl. I should've known he would pull something like this. "And don't call her that!"

"I'm just playin'," he insists.

"Your idea of play is much different than mine is!" I shout.

He snorts. "Be realistic, Marsh. Do you really think your little hippie of a girlfriend is naïve? She's probably going to find out sooner or later. Probably sooner."

"I know that!"

"Guys," Kyle cuts in, "let's not argue…"

"Quiet, Jew," Cartman says.

"Fuck off, Cartman, you fat turd!" Kyle snaps. "This is my house – if you don't stop being an asshole then I can kick you out."

I find it _really_ hard to believe they are fucking.


	22. KB: I love you

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Thanks for reviews, have another chapter ~ **

**Kyle –**

* * *

The weeks continue to pass. It's the end of yet another school day and Stan just met me at my locker. He's coming over again.

"Hi, Kyle," Wendy smiles as she approaches Stan and I.

"Hey, Wendy," I return the smile, though I feel bad for doing so. I'm the guy who is fucking around with her boyfriend.

"Stan," Wendy says, turning to said boyfriend. "Can we talk?"

"Not now, babe, I'm going to Kyle's to study."

To… _study_.

"Oh," she says. "Well, after then. Have fun studying and shoot me a text when you're done."

"Will do," Stan nods before she skips off.

I don't think Stan really noticed, but I noticed that Wendy didn't kiss him this time. She didn't even try. I won't tell Stan that, though. I don't want to put him in a bad mood and have him take it out on me.

"Let's go," Stan slaps my back before we walk to his car.

Once we settle inside, Stan turns to me and says, "You don't mind cars as much now. You've stopped protesting when I offer you a ride… and even when Cartman offers you a ride."

I guess I spent too much time thinking about it in the past, and all the negative thoughts were preventing me from getting over the fear.

"Oh," I say, "I guess I have."

To be honest, I hardly realized it.

* * *

Stan and I have developed a sort of pattern, and our study sessions no longer consist purely of studying. He's made no promises, but I can't say no to him.

"Clearly you've been paying attention," I note as he collapses next to me.

Stan has begun to take initiative more and hesitate less… Though, I'm not sure if it means what I want it to mean. In my mind, I'll try to prepare for the worst. In the end, I'm probably just being used. I'm always being used. This probably isn't any different.

"Yeah, well…" he chuckles, trailing off.

I just force a smile, curling up beside him.

"What is sex with Cartman like?" he asks, suddenly.

"Stan, you're ruining the mood. Do you really want me to start thinking about Cartman when we're naked together?"

"Sorry…" he mumbles. "It's just…" he trails off.

"I know," I sigh. "Cartman… well… he's a bit more like me in bed," I admit.

Stan turns his head to me, "Does that mean you like when he fucks you more than when I do it?"

"No, Stan," I shake my head, "I just mean you both give me something different… our behaviors mix well. I don't know, I guess it just works."

"What kind of behaviors?" he wonders.

I just shrug.

"Come on," he nags.

"Well, it's fun when it's a little rough."

"Rough?" he asks, mildly surprised.

"Yeah."

If he sticks around long enough, I'll let him know about all of my favorite things.

"Hey… what do you think about when you jerk off?" he asks. "Do you think about Cartman?"

"No, I think about myself and how hot my dick is," I joke.

Stan snorts. "You surprise me, you know."

"How so?"

"You're just… I don't know."

I laugh, "I'm so _I don't know_?"

"… yeah, you know," he mumbles.

I get what he's trying to say. "I'm so… _kinky_?" I venture.

"Yeah," he nods, "like… when you… tasted yourself."

I just snort back a laugh.

"It was, like, the fucking weirdest and hottest thing I've ever seen."

"Well, I'm flattered," I snicker. "That must be saying a lot since you have a pretty girl like Wendy."

"There's just something about you that she doesn't have," he says.

A dick, perhaps? But I don't say that. Instead, I say, "You really should speak with Wendy soon… I'm getting sick of smiling at her in the hallways and then fucking around with her boyfriend behind her back. I feel like a really bad person."

Bad and selfish – incredibly selfish… yet that still isn't enough to stop me. So maybe Stan and I are both bad and selfish people to be doing things like this.

"Do you think we could potentially have something?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say.

"If we did… then would you stop fucking Cartman?"

"Obviously," I laugh, trying to avoid making the conversation too serious. I really want to avoid a serious conversation, because Stan makes me all melty and stupid and I'll probably end up crying if he does end up rejecting me. It's happened before, though it wasn't a romantic rejection. He just rejected my friendship when I needed it the most…

Then again, when I think about it, I feel like we may never have gotten to this point if we had stayed friends. Maybe we needed time apart to get to this stage. I feel like if Stan had been with me the whole time, then he wouldn't have been given this chance. He wouldn't be given the chance to try and figure out what he's feeling. Our friendship has sort of been renewed. With it, our feelings and motives have progressed and if we stayed friends I don't think any of it would have occurred. I know that I probably wouldn't have been able to make the first move if I had stayed by Stan's side. I'd probably still be a sexually awkward virgin because Cartman and I only began experimenting after Stan screwed off. I guess when I put things into perspective, it makes it seem a little better. Maybe it happened like this because it had to… and maybe this is all I'll ever get.

"Good," Stan mumbles, and then, "I don't know, though… It's difficult."

"I love you, you know," I suddenly say before I can stop myself, not _necessarily_ speaking of it in the romantic sense but rather the type of love that was born through a long and rocky friendship. Tears are pooling in my eyes and I know if I blink they'll pour down my face so I try my hardest not to.

"Yeah," he whispers, putting his hand on my side and pulling me closer. "I know that, and I love you too."

I hide my face in his shoulder, feeling dumb for getting so emotional.

"Stan," I say quietly, and my voice cracks.

"Yeah, Kyle…" he says, running his hands through my hair.

"Stan," I repeat weakly.

When you fall in love with someone, you fall in love with all of them – the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. You recognize the flaws for what they are and you accept them. This is what I've done for Stan, and this is why I can confidently say I really do love him and this is why I continue to forgive him even when I probably shouldn't. This is why I'll always let him come back.

I felt heartbreak the first time he left. I don't want to feel it ever again, but if it does come to that I know it will be so much worse this time because of everything we've been doing.

Now that I have this much of him, it will be hard to let go if he decides Wendy is who he wants to be with.


	23. WT: He's a terrible liar

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Thanks for all the reviews ~ (:**

**Wendy –**

* * *

"I think I might be breaking up with Stan tonight," I tell Bebe over the phone.

"Really?" she asks.

"I've thought about it," I sigh, "and I don't think it's worth it to keep our relationship going. It's unhealthy to lack trust."

"That's true," Bebe says. "Will you be okay?"

I pause. "I think I will be… I feel fine now, but I know that once it's over I'll probably have a bit of a breakdown."

"That's understandable. You've been with him for a long time."

"Yeah, I suppose it is," I say. "I'm going to be upfront about it all."

"Good!"

After talking with Bebe a little more, I decide to call Stan up and see if he's finished studying with Kyle yet.

"Hello?" I hear, and then what sounds like Kyle's voice asking who it is.

"You're still at Kyle's house?" I ask.

"It's Wendy," he says to Kyle before answering me. "Oh, yeah, I'm about to leave though," he pauses. "Want me to drop by?"

"Yes, please."

"All right, cool. I'll be there in a few," he says before hanging up.

* * *

True to his words, Stan shows up in just a few minutes.

I lead him to the living room and sit with him on the sofa.

"Wendy," he says, "what is it? You're freaking me out. I feel like you have bad news or something."

I frown. "Stan…" I start, clearing my throat. "I don't know how to say this."

"Say what?"

"Stan, does Kyle like you?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"What?" he looks taken aback, "No."

"Then do you like Kyle?"

"No!" he throws his hands up. "Kyle is _with_ someone, remember?"

"So?" I shrug. "You can still be interested in someone who is already in a relationship. You can't help the way you feel."

"No, Wendy!" he denies it. "What made you think that?"

"Oh, please," I roll my eyes, "don't act like you're so surprised. You've been a lot different ever since Kyle walked back into your life… Or, well, since you let him walk back into your life. I'm not an idiot. I can see that something is going on, I just don't know what."

"Wendy…"

"You need to try being honest with me," I say sternly, "because I can tell you haven't been. You're hiding something, I just don't know what."

He lets out a sigh, looking away.

"And why the hell do you keep picking fights with Eric lately?!"

"I don't know," he mumbles.

"Yes, you do! Clearly something happened!" I insist, tired of all this denial. "A couple months ago you hardly said a word to him outside of football practise and games. Now it's like he did something to piss you off."

"He's just an asshole," Stan says tersely.

"He's always been an asshole," I reason. "You can't be trying to say you've just figured that out now."

"I'm… mad at Cartman," he admits, flushing slightly.

"Yeah, I am more than aware of that," I tell him. "Why are you so goddamn angry, though?"

"You know how I told you Kyle was with someone?" he pauses, looking at me.

Oh…

Oh.

Wow.

"It's Eric?" I grimace.

"And he treats Kyle like fucking shit still!" Stan spits, "So of course I'm going to be fucking angry."

"But…" I pause, "you are sure it's just anger and not jealousy?"

He frowns, mumbling a, "Yes."

It's not convincing… not in the least.

"You know, I called you here with intent to break up with you."

"Wendy!" he protests. "No!"

"This is it, Stan," I say, holding up my index finger. "You have one more chance. The next time we break up, we won't be getting back together."

"Okay," he whispers.

I'll give him one more chance, though I'm still preparing for the worst. If things don't improve soon I don't think I'll be able to do this any longer. I can't keep feeling like I'm second best to Kyle.

* * *

The next day at school, I can tell that Stan is making an effort… I just don't know how far it will go.

"So," Nichole begins, "you and Stan…?"

"I'm giving him one more chance," I say, though I have a feeling I probably shouldn't be giving Stan anything.

"Jeez," Bebe cuts in with a sigh. "I really never thought I'd live to see the day where you would be so willing to break up with him."

I shrug. "You gotta do what you gotta do."

"That's right," Nichole nods.

The three of us turn down the hallway in time to see Stan in a confrontation with Eric.

"Tsk," I click my tongue at them.

"Don't talk about him like that!" I hear Stan shout, and I don't even need to ask who he's referring to.

"Why not?" Eric asks, then he leans in and whispers something to Stan that gets him even more riled up.

"What the fuck?" Stan shouts. "Stop lying!"

"I'm not telling lies," Eric says, grinning ear to ear.

Stan reaches forward and grabs Eric by the collar, but Eric just laughs.

"Stan," I cut in, "Stop."

"Listen to your girlfriend, _Stan_," Eric says, still grinning. You can tell he enjoys the way Stan is reacting. Without even realizing it, Stan keeps falling into his trap.

"Fuck you, Cartman," Stan spits, before balling his hand into a fist and hurling it into Eric's amused face.

"Fuckin' hell, Marsh," he shouts, not looking so smug anymore.

"Stop!" I yell as Token and Clyde run by to break things up before things get serious or a teacher finds them fighting. That would be really bad. Both Eric and Stan would be suspended from school and suspended from playing football.

"Guys, break it up," Clyde says, grabbing Stan by the shoulders when he tries to launch at Eric again.

Stan shrugs out of Clyde's hold and stomps away angrily while Eric just stands there laughing and laughing and laughing.

I shoot him a disgusted look before following after Stan.

"Stan!" I shout.

He doesn't slow down.

"Stan!" I shout again, picking up my pace.

"What is it, Wendy?" he asks as we approach his car.

"You can't keep reacting like that," I say. "Eric wants you to react like that. You just keep falling for it."

"I know… I can't help it!"

"I think you can if you really want to. It's called self-control."

He scrunches up his face, looking like he might start crying – but he doesn't.

"What was he saying?" I ask softly.

Stan just shakes his head. "Nasty shit…"

"Stan…" I say quietly. "Do you love Kyle?"

"Of course I do," he chokes out. "He was my best friend… is my best friend… I don't know what he is anymore."

"Are you in love with him?" I ask carefully.

"No," he insists.

I frown. "Stan…"

"Wendy… I don't know what to do," he admits weakly, looking like a lost child and suddenly I can't be angry anymore. This whole thing is just too sad.

What a mess.

"Shh, it'll be okay," I say softly, enveloping him in my arms. I feel him shaking, and he's probably crying, but I'll pretend he isn't because it would only make him angrier.

He always was a terrible liar.


	24. SM: The truth

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**LOL. Last bout of drama, I promise. We're nearing the end now. **

**Stan –**

* * *

Last night I arrived at Wendy's house within minutes of leaving Kyle's. She took my hand and lead me into the living room, where we sat down on the sofa.

"Wendy?" I asked awkwardly. "What is it? You're freaking me out… I feel like you have bad news or something."

She frowned, and I could tell I was in trouble. "Stan… I don't know how to say this."

"Say what?" I felt anxiety exploding throughout every inch of me.

She crossed her arms, bluntly asking, "Stan, does Kyle _like_ you?"

I was somewhat taken aback and before I could shut myself up, I found myself denying it. "No!"

"Then do you like Kyle?"

"No!" I shouted again. "Kyle is with someone, remember?"

"So? You can still be interested in someone who is already in a relationship. You can't help the way you feel."

"No, Wendy!" I kept insisting. "What made you think that?"

God, I wanted to throw up. She read me so easily. I should have known I wouldn't be able to hide what I was doing.

"Oh, please," she said, rolling her eyes. "Don't act like you're so surprised. You know, I came here with intent to break up with you. You've been incredibly distant lately, ever since you let Kyle back into your life. Or, well, since you let him walk back into your life. I'm not an idiot. I can see that something is going on, I just don't know what."

"Wendy…"

"You need to try being honest with me," she said, "because I can tell you haven't been. You're hiding something, I just don't know what."

I couldn't exactly deny that…

"And why the hell do you keep picking fights with Eric lately?!"

"I don't know," I mumbled.

"Yes, you do! Clearly something happened!" she insisted, "A couple months ago you hardly said a word to him outside of football practise and games. Now it's like he did something to piss you off."

"He's just an asshole," I said tersely.

"He's always been an asshole," she reasoned. "You can't be trying to say you've just figured that out now."

"I'm… mad at Cartman," I admitted.

"Yeah, I am more than aware of that," she scoffed. "Why are you so goddamn angry though?"

"You know how I told you Kyle was with someone?" I paused. I knew I shouldn't have told her, but I felt desperate. I panicked and I didn't want her to know about my part in all of this.

I watched realization dawn upon her. "It's Eric?" she asked, visibly shocked.

"And he treats Kyle like fucking shit still!" I growled, "So of course I'm going to be fucking angry."

"But…" she frowned, "You're sure it's just anger and not jealousy?"

"Yes," I lied.

"You know, I called you here with intent to break up with you."

"Wendy!" I protested, "No!"

I guess I'm weaker than I thought, and that's definitely saying a lot because I already see myself as a weak enough person. I guess it's easier to keep lying about it – to keep my reputation ideal. I'm Stanley Marsh. I'm the star quarterback and I date cheerleader Wendy Testaburger. We are the perfect high school couple. The possibility of being anything other than that scares the living hell out of me.

… God, I hate myself.

Kyle's going to hate me, too.

Why can't I tell the truth for once in my fucking life?

"This is it, Stanley Marsh," she said. "You have one more chance. The next time we break up, we won't be getting back together."

* * *

Earlier today, Cartman began mouthing off and being completely repulsive.

"Oh, yeeaaah… mm! You just gotta love that submissive side of him, ay? When he bends over and just starts begging… yeah, I bet you know what I mean," he smirked, watching for my reaction.

"Don't talk about him like that!"

"Why not?" Cartman shrugged unceremoniously, "he likes it – or did you not know that? He isn't really one for small talk and romance. Slap him around a little, call him a whore."

"What the fuck?" I growled, "Stop lying!"

"I'm not telling lies," he insisted, but I knew he was. Kyle might have some weird interests, but I doubt that is one of them! Cartman just wants to fuck around with me.

That's when we started fighting. Wendy tried to put an end to it, but I couldn't stop myself from throwing the first punch.

Wendy was so damn angry afterwards. I'm embarrassed to say I started crying. It was all too overwhelming.

"Do you love Kyle?"

"Are you _in love_ with him?"

And I just kept denying everything because, as I've said, it's easier to keep things the way they've always been.

* * *

I just dropped Wendy off, now I'm at Kyle's. I'm going to disappoint him. He'll probably kick me out and tell me to fuck off and never speak to him again.

Of course, Cartman is here – fortunately I didn't walk in on anything that would have made me even more pissed off. I guess if this is how things are going to end, I should distance myself from the both of them.

"Sorry, Kyle," I say weakly, "I couldn't do it."

"Do what?" Kyle asks, tilting his head to the side.

Cartman is sitting on the bed, watching us both with unmasked curiosity. I want to tell him to get out, but I know that wouldn't keep him from pressing his ear against the door and it wouldn't stop Kyle from telling him all about it. Once I'm out of the picture, Kyle and Cartman... fuck, I don't even want to think about it.

"I couldn't end things with Wendy…" I admit.

"I assumed as much," Kyle says, crossing his arms. "Now get out."

"Why?" I ask, wondering why he doesn't have more to say to me. I half expected an earful of insults.

"I can't be around you right now."

"Why?" I ask again.

"Because I'm upset," he states mechanically.

I frown. "Sorry."

"No, you're not," he says, laughing bitterly. "You know what? I don't understand you at all. You fuck me and make it seem like you want to be with me… then you do a complete U-turn. I think you're just scared."

"Kyle –"

"Don't!" he shouts. "Don't try to justify it!"

"I wasn't –"

"If you don't tell Wendy, I will," he says bitterly, "and Cartman will happily back me up."

Fuck...

Cartman smirks. "Sure will. I'll tell her how much you enjoyed it 'cause I saw it firsthand."

Shit… Why do I do this to myself? I let out a sigh, feeling my eyes starting to water again, but shit, I really can't afford to start crying right here.

"Just get out, _Stan_!" Kyle shrieks, sounding inexplicably angry as he spits my name out with a bitter tongue.

Cartman is laughing. Of course he's laughing – he's always fucking laughing.

"Fine," I mumble.

Why am I such an idiot?

Why do I keep ruining everything?

Why can't I make up my mind?

* * *

When I return home, I jack some of my dad's alcohol (though I vowed it off) and cry some more. My dad tries to get me to tell him what's wrong, but I'm not in the mood to talk about it. I just tell him to fuck off, so he does.

I wish Kenny was here… or even Chef… they always had good advice… But I guess I could call Wendy and, for once, try to talk to her about something that's bothering me. I know she'll listen. By the end of the conversation she may hate me, but she'll listen nonetheless.

"Wendy, we need to talk," I say when she picks up. My voice is hoarse and wet and she probably hears it.

"What is it, Stan?" she asks. "Are you all right? You sound upset."

"Can you come over? Please…"

"All right."

And she does.

"You look awful," she frowns, wiping my eyes. "Are you drunk?"

"A little," I mumble, not bothering to try and hide it. I really need to stop lying.

"Stan..." she scolds.

"Not now, Wendy... please."

"Why are you drunk?" she sighs. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah."

"What?"

"I…" I pause. How the fuck am I going to tell her?

"Stan?" she says my name.

"I did something," I tell her, trying to calm down enough to get the words out, "and you're not going to like it. You might even hate me for it."

Her lips part and her eyebrows draw together. "Stan, please just say it."

I let out a breath. My heart is beating so damn fast I feel like I'm going to puke.

"I fucked Kyle," I say shakily.

Wendy closes her eyes, but doesn't say anything. She doesn't look like she's going to start crying, she doesn't look like she's angry… she just looks… oddly content.

"Why?" she asks after many long moments.

"Because I wanted to," I admit. "And I liked it."

She nods. "Why did you lie to me, then?"

"Because I'm scared," I admit weakly, feeling like I'm going to start crying all over again but I'd like to avoid it.

"What are you scared of, Stan?"

I don't know.

Being gay?

God, that reason sounds so fucking stupid, even in my head.

"I don't know how to explain it," I say shakily. "Maybe I'm just scared of the change… It's always been you and me. Stan Marsh and Wendy Testaburger."

"Yeah," she forces out a chuckle. "But you know – Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski doesn't sound so bad, either."

I snort, rubbing a hand down my face. "I fucked it up, either way… so it doesn't matter anymore."

"Oh, come on," she says. "You've fixed things before, you can fix it again."

I don't reply this time because I'm not so sure I believe it. "Why are you being nice and calm about this?" I ask.

"Because it won't do any good to be an asshole to you," she smiles softly and sympathetically. "And I knew this was coming."

"Yeah… I know you did…" I murmur. "I was being a dumbass, trying to convince myself you didn't know what was really going on."

I've hurt Kyle before, yeah, but not like this. This time, it's different. It's different because I played with his feelings knowing how he felt about me. I kept it going even when I had no intention to make something out of it.

In the process I hurt Wendy, too.

"I thought loved you," she whispers.

"I know, Wendy," I say quietly. "I thought the same thing… a long time ago."

"Yeah…"

"I'm sorry."

"I think…" she pauses. "I don't think it was love. I think we just rolled with it, you know? I knew something was happening to us and it'd be the end of us."

"Yeah," I choke.

"I wish you hadn't lied. I wish you were more upfront. I wish you spoke to me more... I'm disappointed in how it ended," she states, "but I'm not going to dwell on it. I knew it would come to this. I think I was prepared. Perhaps, if you give me a little time, then maybe soon we can try being friends."

I nod, feeling thoroughly miserable.

It's funny in that not-so-funny way... I never spoke to Wendy. I never really opened up to her about the things that really mattered... until now, and now we're broken up.

"I'm scared," I admit.

"I know," she says. "Romance is hard."

I close my eyes, not wanting anymore tears to fall.

"Stan…" Wendy sighs, rubbing my cheek. "You really are an idiot."

I don't need her to say it because I already know. I lost Kyle and Wendy both in a matter of hours because I'm too stupid to make up my goddamn fucking mind. It's always simple to say you want to do something, but it's harder to actually do it.

Well, it feels better to have things out in the open.


	25. KB: I'll be fine

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Thanks for all the nice reviews! **

**Kyle –**

* * *

I think I heard the words before Stan even said them. I knew what we were doing wasn't going to end well. I know he wasn't going to let it end well. I suppose I asked for it by continuously pining after him.

"Get out!" I frantically yelled at him mere moments ago.

My voice was hoarse – more so than usual – as I told tell him exactly what I thought of him.

"Fine," was all he said before leaving.

Cartman was laughing… He's still laughing. He thinks the whole thing is funny but I don't think it's funny at all.

I collapse onto the floor, trying hard not to let myself cry but it doesn't work.

"Kahl," Cartman says, kneeling down after his laughter subsides. "Tsk… come on, don't be a baby."

I let out a sob and he rolls his eyes, awkwardly pulling me into his chest and giving me a few awkward slaps on the back.

"I hate him!" I sob.

"No, you don't."

I continue to cry into his chest. Why the hell do I do this to myself?

Too bad Cartman wasn't really into guys. If he was, then I might actually consider staying with him because he always stays with me like this. I don't know why.

I guess, deep down and in his own twisted way, he does care. Even if he continues to deny I'm nothing but a "dumb Jew".

In the end, he's a good friend. Maybe I could have grown to love him. Then again… I know there's a difference between loving someone and loving the things they give you.

"My head hurts," I mumble after I've stopped crying.

"Well… shit, yeah," Cartman says. "You were crying like a baby having a temper tantrum. I thought you were going to hurl on me. So, you done crying like a bitch?"

I back away, scowling at him. "There's nothing wrong with crying, Cartman!"

"Men don't cry," he says, crossing his arms.

"Yes, they do!" I yell. "Everyone cries!"

"Well, men shouldn't cry."

I grind my teeth angrily. "Leave, you're pissing me off again."

* * *

At school the next day, Garrison keeps me after class.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Kyle?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

He crosses his arms and gives me a look that tells me I should know what he means. "You've been as dumb as Clyde lately," he says.

"Oh," I mumble.

"Now what the hell is going on?

"Nothing."

"Oh, please," he snorts. "What is it? Still trouble in paradise?"

"What are you –" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Don't be a dumbass," he warns.

"He's straight."

"Stan? That kid's about as straight as I am."

Well… I don't think anyone is quite at the level Mr. Garrison is at.

"Now, listen," he continues. "I don't know what you've been fighting about for the past year but whatever it is, you should fix it. Especially if it's going to start affecting your schoolwork and grades. You and Stanley have been funny ever since I taught you in elementary. I always knew it was just a matter of time."

I have to stifle a smile, remembering when Stan was caught with the note Bebe tried to send to me –

"_Dear Kyle, you have got such a great ass. I could sleep for days on those perked cheeks, let me tell you. I'd like to live with you and wear your ass as a hat for all eternity."_

* * *

Wendy approaches me in the hallway after Mr. Garrison stops pestering me and I assume that Stan has told her what we've been doing.

"Hey, Kyle," she says.

"Hey…" I mumble, preparing to get an earful.

She looks around before speaking again. "I know about you and Stan…" she says softly.

"Oh," I frown. "I'm sorry, Wendy… I really am."

"I know," she shrugs, leaning against the wall of lockers. "I'm going to be honest, okay? I saw it coming… I saw it coming for a long time."

"How?" I ask.

She smiles a bitter smile. I can tell it's forced. "It's always been about you. It's never really been about me. I don't think he's been interested in me for a long time, I think he just thought he was supposed to be interested in me. He's scared of making changes…"

That last part, I know. I can remember his hoarding habit from when we were young. While change is often something many people enjoy, it has always been something that scared Stan.

"If he wasn't so afraid of these changes, I think he would have been with you a long time ago," she continues. "I think he's also afraid of admitting he isn't straight. I mean… he's the star quarterback. He gets too wrapped up in stereotypes sometimes. I think he thought it would be easier if he ignored the things he was feeling and just kept his life as it was. Even if he was miserable, at the same time, it would have made things easier… Well, in his mind, at least. His reputation means a lot to him… it means too much to him."

"Yeah," I say weakly, wondering why she's telling me all of this stuff.

"Stan and I broke up," she chuckles, shrugging. "I knew it was coming and I'm not as sad as I thought I would be about it. I think that once it was happened, the worst part was over."

"I'm sorry, Wendy," I say again.

She shakes her head. "Sometimes I think about it… I wonder what it is like to be so in love with someone and not be able to be with them. That's why I kind of understand why you guys did what you did. He doesn't want to be with me. I don't know if he ever truly wanted to be with me. He wants to be with you."

"He can't tell me that himself?" I ask quietly.

"I'm sure you know it as well as I do – Stan is an idiot," she laughs.

"Why are you being so nice about all this?" I frown.

"You know," she pauses, "I never thought I'd be able to. I thought I'd be angry at you. I didn't think I'd be able to stop myself from saying something cruel or spiteful… but I don't feel the need to say anything mean to you. Maybe, if I were in your position, I would have done the same thing."

"Do you love him?" I ask.

"No," she says, and I can tell she's being honest, "but you love him, right? You love him, even now. You love him, even after everything he's done to you."

"Yeah," I say hoarsely.

"And I think he might love you too," she shrugs. "If it's not love, then it's something pretty damn close. He'll get there soon. He's just dumb and doesn't realize how important you truly are to him yet."

"I'm not going to make the first move this time," I tell her. "I don't think I can."

"Yeah," she sighs. "He has a habit of ruining things."

"It's fine."

"Is it?" she asks.

"Well… it's not fine right now," I admit, "but it will be."

And by _it_ I mean me.


	26. WT: Moving on

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Wendy –**

* * *

"Well," Bebe frowns, "Let's put it this way – at least he's not interested in another girl… he's just gay."

I close my eyes and let out a little sigh. Bebe always takes things with a light heart. I wish I could, too, but it's a lot harder than it sounds.

I feel her arms wrap around me as she pulls me into her chest. "It's okay," she says gently. "You have a right to be a little sad," she continues, "but soon you'll move on."

"I feel like it's already happening," I admit, "and that thought kind of scares me. I've been with Stan for nearly eight years. I've gotten used to the idea of him always being a part of my life. I mean… we used to talk about marriage and children and things like that… I know that we're still only seventeen, but we've been together for so long it was strange to imagine we'd ever break up... Now here we are."

"I know, honey."

"What's it going to be like without him?" I wonder.

"Well," she says, "you'll just have to find that out."

It feels strange and oddly serene.

Stan is emotionally volatile and angry, but at the same time maybe Kyle can handle him like that. Maybe Kyle can handle him when he is at his worst. Kyle will probably always take him back, too… though that thought is somewhat saddening.

When I look back on it all, I am seeing the way their shoulders always bumped together and I understand that they have something special after all. Maybe Kyle will be able to give Stan things that I couldn't give him. I showed him lots of myself, but he would never do the same. I don't think he could.

"I do want them to be happy," I admit, though many people would agree that they don't deserve it just yet.

"Who?" Bebe asks.

"Kyle and Stan," I specify. "Is it strange of me to want that?"

"No, don't be silly," Bebe smiles. "You're a good person… you're nicer than most. Most people would be full of spite and in need of revenge, but you're not like that."

I laugh quietly.

"Wendy, you are pretty and you are kind, but more than that you are selfless and all of the good things in the world. You're selfless and you want the best for people," Bebe says. "Someday someone will love you very much and they'll love you like Stan never could. They'll be good to you and treat you right. You'll get married and have children. You'll grow old with this person and you'll forget all about Stan. He'll be just a distant memory in the very back of your mind."

"I know."

"Stan and Kyle…" Bebe shrugs, "they'll be fine. They've been through a lot, I doubt they'll turn on each other now… I doubt Stan will turn back on Kyle again. If he leaves things the way they are, then he's a hell of a lot worse than I thought."

"He's stupid," I say, "and that doesn't justify any of what he did – it's just a fact. Stan Marsh is stupid."

She laughs, "Yes, he really is."

"He keeps making mistakes and the consequences are awful… but he doesn't learn."

"If he hasn't already, he'll learn soon enough," she insists. "He'll keep learning the hard way until it finally sinks in. Hopefully it won't be too late by the time that happens."

"I can only hope."

* * *

Stan and Kyle still aren't talking, but I often see them glancing at each other when they think they aren't being watched.

Their two lives are permanently tangled. No matter who tries to sever the strings that tie them together, they'll always end up next to each other. No matter how physically far away they are from one another, they'll still be side by side.

Stan nodded at me in the hallway earlier, and I held up my hand, offering a small wave in return.

To be truthful, I really do want to try being friends, but I don't know if it will be easy. It might be hard because we've dated since we were children. I've seen him happy and I've seen him sad. I've seen him embarrassed, I've seen him making a complete idiot out of himself… I'd say that's what friendship is all about, but then there is the sex. I hope it won't be awkward still being friends with someone you've slept with. Rebecca insists that it isn't, but everyone is different so I can't be sure. I can only hope for the best.

And speaking of the best, I _do_ want the best for Kyle and Stan. Strange as it sounds, I want them to be happy. Maybe Stan deserves to mull things over and think about the shit he's done, but he doesn't deserve to be miserable forever. No one does. Everyone makes mistakes and everyone deserves happiness. I like to think that he'll find it with Kyle, and hopefully he'll realize it soon. Hopefully he'll realize it before it's too late.

But then again… with Kyle, it will never be too late for Stan. Even I can tell that much from simply talking to him. He's so in love. He loves Stan more than I ever could have imagined.

And sure, Kyle is in the wrong, too. He was the one who consciously slept with Stan, knowing he was with me. It is sad to think about, but I'm not going to dwell on it. Bottling up anger and aiming it at Stan and Kyle would do no good. It would only make me feel worse in the end. I don't want to waste my time pointlessly worrying about things I have no control over – things that are of the past and long over. I want to be able to look at Stan and Kyle and smile when I see them walking hand-in-hand. I want them to be able to smile at me and not have guilt in their eyes. They've both told me they were sorry and I know they meant it. I think they deserve to move on from it, because that's what I'm going to do.

I'm going to move on.

I'm going to be okay.


	27. SM: Don't make me hit you

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Best chapter _ever_ alert. Jk. **

**Stan –**

* * *

It's already been two weeks since Wendy and I broke up and since I fucked it up with Kyle. I've been drinking most nights, and it usually ends up with my dad coming into my room and yelling that I shouldn't be drinking at my age. I know I shouldn't, but fuck; it just makes things easier for a while. It makes things easier until I sober up, that is. I almost welcome the hangovers, because when I've got a pounding headache it's hard to think about anything else.

Jesus Christ, I sound emo.

I'm trying hard not to sound so self-pitying when I lay things out. It makes me cringe, even when the only person who hears it is me.

"Fag," Cartman addresses me at the end of the day.

"What the hell do you want, you stupid, fat fuck?" I growl, slamming my locker closed.

"Calm down, Marsh," he says, crossing his arms and laughing.

I let out a sigh, trying to calm down. Technically, Cartman isn't the one doing all this wrong shit – it's me and I _should_ take his advice and try to simmer.

"Is Kyle all right?" I ask him.

"Sure, he's all right," Cartman shrugs.

"Good…"

He gives me a particularly nasty looking smile before continuing, "That is, if by all right you mean a big ol' mess."

I feel myself frown. "And I did that?"

"You sure did," he says. "He loves you a lot. I don't know why, but he does and you fucked with him, yet again… literally and figuratively, this time. I should commend you for it, but I was the one who has to sit with him until he stopped whining about it. I don't give two shits about his pain when I'm the one inflicting it, but I can't deal with him like this."

"You care?" I ask airily.

"No," he denies it, but I can tell he does. Deep, deep, deep, deep down. "He's just pretty miserable and no fun to piss off anymore."

"Right…"

"I'm seriously," he insists.

"So, was he really that upset or are you exaggerating?" I change the subject.

"I'm not exaggerating," Cartman snorts, "as soon as you left the room he was wailing like a bitch. When you were telling him that you wanted to stay with Wendy he was suckin' it back real hard. Just do us all a favor and fix things with him. There's nothing stopping you this time. Go tell him you love him too or whatever the fuck."

"I hurt him too much to fix things this time," I say.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Boo fucking hoo. Don't give me that self-pitying garbage, you're gonna make me punch you in the face."

"I'm not pitying myself," I protest. I don't deserve even a lick of pity, not even from myself.

"Riiight…"

"I'm not!"

Cartman holds up his hands, in an innocent gesture. "All I'm saying is that you should try and talk with him. Just give him a call or something – save me all the annoyance of having to watch you both mope around."

"Maybe," I pause. "Maybe tomorrow…"

He snorts. "Whatever, Marsh, just do it soon."

* * *

When I go home, I sit up in my room and staring at my phone. I want to call Kyle and get it over with so I can stop stressing out over it, I end up having a drink to calm my nerves. One drink turns into three, and I'm dialling his cellphone number.

"Hey, Fag," comes a voice that is definitely not Kyle's.

"Cartman?" I ask. "What the hell are you doing with Kyle's phone?"

"I'm just answering it for him, calm your tits." He sounds strained…

"Why?" I hiss.

"Well, you see," he sounds humoured now. "Kyle can't talk. His mouth is a little preoccupied right now. In just a few minutes, he'll be singing the fuckin' opera. I'm gonna make him sing some fuckin' high notes," he says, laughing like he's making the most hilarious joke.

I frown, a sick feeling brewing in my gut.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Cartman?" I ask, trying not to sound as desperate as I do. "You told me I should call him, so I did!"

"And…?"

"And then I find out you're screwing around with him!"

"So? I didn't think you'd gather up the guts to do it tonight," he admits, then I hear him let out a grunt.

"Cartman?"

No answer.

"CARTMAN?" I yell into the phone.

Still no answer, but I hear another grunt and a, "Good, Kahl," in the background.

"Fuckin'…" I trail off, highly disturbed that I am listening to Kyle and Cartman screwing around. "Sick!" I yell, though I doubt either of them notices.

God! The fat-ass probably planned this! I knew he wasn't trying to fix things for any selfless reason!

"_Hey, who is it_?" I hear Kyle ask.

"Stanny-boy," Cartman answers him before getting back to me.

"_Well hang up_," Kyle says bitterly.

"Hold your horses," Cartman says. "I'll hang up in a sec. I just wanna mess with him a bit more… heh."

I feel like killing everyone…

"Sorry 'bout that, Marsh," he finally says into the phone. He sounds amused, like this is the funniest thing in the world. To him, it probably is.

"Asshole," I choke out. "You're the worst kind of person. What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm just playin'," he says. I hear him take in a shuddery breath and I hear Kyle moan in the background.

"Well, no one likes the kind of games you play!" I yell, not wanting to hear any more of it.

"Nah," he says, "that's just you. I think Kyle likes these games an awful lot… as I'm sure you can hear."

"You're a bad person," I tell him.

"Well, fortunately for me, I don't give a rat's ass about being a good person," he admits with a little laugh.

"You're going to rot in hell."

"Yeah, but so what? We all are," he says before hanging up.

And well… I wouldn't be surprised if that was true.


	28. KB: Our friend Kenny

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Kyle –**

* * *

Apparently Stan called me the other night, but I couldn't answer. I was… well… busy. Cartman answered the phone and toyed with Stan a bit before finally hanging up.

I don't know what Stan was saying, I didn't ask Cartman about it. I couldn't bring myself to do so. I still can't.

I think that the only reason I didn't yell at Cartman to hang up the phone right away is because I wanted Stan to be jealous. It sounds petty and stupid and immature, but it's the truth. I guess I'm a little more spiteful than I thought.

It's Friday night now and I'm glad the school week is over. Now I won't have to consciously avoid Stan.

My phone starts ringing and I check the ID to see it's Cartman calling.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Hey."

"What's up?"

"I wanna see you," he says.

"No, you don't," I snort. "You just want to see my mouth around your dick."

"Same thing," he insists.

"Hardly," I say before hanging up.

Five seconds later my phone rings again and I give an annoyed sigh.

"Cartman, I said I'm not in the mood," I say automatically.

"… It isn't Cartman…" comes the breathy response

"Oh," I say weakly, immediately recognizing the voice on the other end.

It's Stan.

"Kyle?" he says my name.

"Yes? What?" I ask, forcing a calm voice.

"I've been thinking about you… Are you doing well?"

I shrug, momentarily forgetting that I am talking on the phone and not having a face-to-face conversation. I want to scold him and tell him that he can't just throw a statement like 'I've been thinking about you' in my face and then brush it off by asking how I am doing. I want to do that, but I don't. Instead I say nothing.

"Are you there?"

I feel myself shaking, though he isn't even in the room. I feel so angry and hurt, words can't describe it… though, at the same time I'm wondering if I deserve to feel this bad. Stan, on the other hand, sounds so soft and so timid, like he is afraid of what I might say.

I sigh into the receiver, causing a soft static noise. "I'm fine, Stan. Goodbye" and I hang up the phone.

Am I being unfair?

Maybe, but I can't bring myself to speak with him just yet, let alone face him. I know that is what he'll ask if I let him talk. He'll want to come over. He'll want to say he's sorry… I don't know what else. I don't think I want to let him hurt me anymore. I don't think I can handle it.

A minute later my phone rings for a third time.

I check the ID this time. It's Stan again.

"Listen," I say into the phone, "I don't want to talk to you."

"Why?"

"Because," I begin, "I feel like shit. You made me feel like shit."

"I didn't mean to…"

"Maybe," I say, giving him the benefit of the doubt, "but you still did… and maybe it's not fair of me to say it's all your fault and act like I'm so innocent. I'm not innocent. I'm kind of the one who started this whole thing and –"

"Kyle," he cuts me off.

"What?" I sigh.

"Can I come over?"

"No."

"Please?"

"I want to talk to you. I want to… fix things," he says, "for good this time."

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, feeling myself frown.

"You'll find out if you let me come over."

"Tsk," I click my tongue. He drives a nasty bargain… "Fine, but if I ask you to leave you have to."

"Fair enough," he says. "I'll be there in five."

I hang up and toss my phone across the room.

I can't say "no" to him. It shouldn't be that difficult. It's a simple, two letter word. I should be able to say it confidently, but I can't.

When Stan arrives at the front door, he looks uncomfortable.

I open the door for him to step inside, but I don't say anything. He can be the first one to talk.

Ike gives us both a strange look as Stan and I silently walk up to my bedroom.

He stands awkwardly in the middle of my room, rubbing the back of his head and looking everywhere but at me.

I cross my arms, waiting for him to say what he wants.

"Kyle," he says weakly.

I don't say anything.

"Kyle," he repeats, "I'm sorry."

"You already said that," I tell him in a somewhat cold tone. "You've said it so many times, I think the word is beginning to lose its meaning."

He frowns, still refusing to meet my gaze.

"I'm an idiot," he says.

"I know you are. I think everyone knows that."

"Yeah…" he mumbles. "Wendy and I broke up."

"Yes, I know. Is that the only reason you're here?" I ask. "Because, if so, you can get the hell out right now."

"It's not!" he insists, finally looking at me.

"Then talk."

"I tried to fix it with Wendy… it didn't work. It was because…" he pauses. "It was because I don't love her."

"I know that, Stan!" I raise my voice, frustrated and unable to keep calm. "I could have told you that!"

"Even if you did, you know I wouldn't have listened," he admits. "It's like… I'm always making the wrong choices. I always have to deal with the consequences and I never learn from it."

"I know," I say again. "Stan, just tell me what you want to tell me."

"I…" he trails off, momentarily shutting his eyes and letting out a sigh. "I fucking love you," he says. "I don't just love you, I'm _in love_ with you… but I feel like I have no right to say it because I've hurt you so many damn times."

I take a few steps back and sit down on my bed. I don't say anything; I just tap the spot next to me and lean back so I'm lying down with my legs hanging off the side of the mattress.

Stan hesitantly takes the spot next to me, lying down so we're side-by-side.

"We're okay," I tell him, looking up at the ceiling.

"Just like that?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say.

He takes my hand and holds it to his chest. I can feel his heart beating fast. He must have been anxious coming here.

"Thanks, Kyle," he whispers.

"Yeah. Whatever, Stan," I force a chuckle.

"So… we're…" he trails off.

"Yeah."

I can't deny that I'm still angry, but at the same time, do I even have a right to be?

I don't know.

Stan and I both did some really shitty things. If anyone has the right to be infuriated, it's Wendy. I guess she's proved to be the bigger person that Stan and I.

* * *

The following day at school, I go find Cartman. I need to end things with him and I want to get it out of the way as soon as I can.

"Cartman," I say, running after him.

"What?" he says, turning around.

"Can we talk about something?" I ask.

"Yeah," he shrugs. "What is it?"

"Here?" I glance around at all the other students in the hallway.

"Yeah," he rolls his eyes, "it isn't like they're paying any attention to us. They're all wrapped up in their own business. They don't care about us."

"I guess…" I pause.

"So," he says. "You and Stan, then?"

"How'd you know?"

"Oh, please," he laughs, "because you actually look like you're okay for a change."

"Oh…" I pause, "yeah, we're together – for real this time."

"Thought so. S'about time you fags set things straight," he snorts, taking a book out of his locker and holding it under his arm as he locks the door. "No pun intended."

"I know…"

"So," he says, "I guess I won't be pounding your ass anymore."

"Tsk…" I click my tongue and shake my head.

"Well, it was fun while it lasted," he laughs, giving me a hard slap on the back and causing me to lurch forward. "I told yah you didn't hate him. If you did, you wouldn't have gotten together with him and taken him back so easily… then again, you did let me fuck you a countless number of times and you claim to hate me, so scratch what I just said."

"Not so damn loud," I warn him, crossing my arms.

"Why?" he laughs. "Don't tell me you're suddenly feeling shy?"

Private things should remain private.

"Tell Marsh not to screw things up this time," he says.

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman," I reply before walking off to find Stan.

* * *

I'm not going to lie and say it isn't a bit tense between Stan and me. It is, but that will change with time. I think he's just busy trying so hard not to mess up again.

"Hey," Stan says once I meet up with him at his locker.

"Hey," I say.

"You know what we should do?" Stan suddenly says, closing his locker.

"What?"

"We should go visiting."

"Visiting?"

"Yeah."

"Who?" I ask, though I know who he is referring to.

"Kenny," he says, confirming my suspicion.

I frown. "I'm not sure I'm ready."

Stan pats my back, "Dude, it's now or never. Kenny would be pissed off you're doing this to yourself. Remember what he always said?"

"_Don't mourn death, celebrate life_," I quote.

"Exactly," Stan nods. "You should follow his advice."

"I know," I whisper.

"Let's go," he holds out his hand.

"People will see us," I say.

"So?" he shrugs.

"You don't care?"

"Not anymore," he admits.

So we walk down the hallway hand-in-hand, ignoring every pair of eyes that lingers on us.

* * *

I can feel my heart beating as we reach the cemetery. Stan parks on the side of the road and I just stare at the gate.

"Come on," he says, giving me an encouraging smile.

I frown, trying to promise myself I won't cry but I probably will.

"I haven't been here since the d ay of the funeral," I admit as we walk through the paths to get to Kenny's grave.

"That's okay," Stan says. "There it is," he points.

My chest feels heavy.

"What am I supposed to say?" I ask when we're standing in front of the grave.

"Whatever you want to."

"Hey, Kenny," I pause, kneeling in front of the grave. Stan sits down next to me and nods, encouraging me to keep talking.

"I miss you," my voice cracks, "all the fucking time and it wears me out. Cartman says I shouldn't be sad about it anymore, but I can't help it. You died, and I'm always replaying that day in my head. I keep seeing it and I keep wishing I could change things about it. I think that if I did… If I did then you'd still be alive."

I take another pause and wipe my eyes. Fuck, I told myself I wasn't going to cry. I look over at Stan, who says, "You're doing great, Kyle."

I look back down at the name engraved on the stone.

_Kenneth McCormick_

"Cartman says that you wouldn't want me to be sad about it all the time, and I know that… but I still can't…" I trail off.

I feel Stan put his arm around me.

"Kenny," he cuts in, "I'm sorry. I did a bad thing."

I glance over at him.

"You saved Kyle, right?" Stan says quietly, "You saved him because he's worth saving. You saved him because you valued Kyle's life over your own… I didn't understand it at the time. I was young and I was stupid. I still am… I blamed Kyle. Because of me, everyone else did, too. We said it was his fault and he grew to believe that it was… It was never his fault. It was no one's fault. It was just a sad thing that happened."

I put my head on Stan's shoulder.

"But I'm trying to make it better… I know it took me long enough, but I'm trying," he finishes quietly. "I'm sorry, Kyle," he says to me.

"It's okay, Stan," I tell him, even though I know it will take time.

These things always take time… but I think this is the first step.

"Do you think Kenny would be proud of us?" I ask.

"I think he would be," Stan says, "He'd be happy we're finally fixing this, and he'd probably give us both a smack in the face for being so damn stubborn… Well, mostly me."

I chuckle, "Probably."

I stare at the grave again as I continue to talk about the good and the bad. When I'm done, I feel myself smile.

"I wonder if he's really listening," I say.

Stan smiles back. "I have a feeling that he is."

* * *

As we reach the gates, I find myself looking back one last time and I swear I see Kenny there waving at us.

But I won't tell Stan that. He'd think I was fucking crazy… Then again, this place can be fucking crazy, too.

"What are you staring at?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say, taking his hand as we walk off.


	29. WT: Back to normal

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Thanks for the reviews, as always! An extra shout out to Profe for finally getting around to reading this thaaang. **

**Second last chapter! **

**Wendy –**

* * *

It's already been two months since Stan and I broke up, and _nearly_ two months since Stan and Kyle got together. You can tell how happy they are. When I see the way Stan is with Kyle, I can't believe that they weren't together sooner.

Stan and I never had what he has with Kyle.

As long as he doesn't repeat his mistakes, I can be happy for them. I think forgave them both a long time ago and things have returned to normal – or about as normal as things can be around here.

* * *

Tonight is our next big football game and the boys are all desperate not to break the winning streak.

"Tell that homo Stan to get into his gear," Eric tells me before running out onto the field.

I just chuckle at him, shaking my head as I walk off.

I find Stan on the sidelines waving his hands around while talking to Kyle. Kyle looks like he's laughing along to whatever Stan is saying.

"Stan!" I yell, spotting the familiar head of dark hair.

Stan is no longer in any danger of being kicked off the football team. Thanks to Kyle, his average is a 72 and getting higher. He rubbed it in Clyde's face, deservingly so, and Clyde was pretty sour about it. His average is still only a steady 66, but as long as it stays at 66 then the team won't suffer.

When Stan turns around, I approach them saying, "Hurry up and put your uniform on, the game is starting soon and coach wants you boys out on the field!"

"Oh, shit!" he hisses, giving Kyle a peck on the lips before running into the locker room.

I won't deny it's still weird to see. I used to be the one Stan kissed on the sidelines. We got used to it, just like everyone else did.

However, things change.

I think he has finally gotten used to being Stanley Marsh, star quarterback and boyfriend of Kyle Broflovski, the smartest guy at South Park High. I think he realized he doesn't need to fall into a stereotypical category or the jock dating the cheerleader. He doesn't have to be just like his friends. He doesn't need to try and rationalize pointless things in his head anymore. He doesn't need to try to be someone he isn't just to try and impress everyone. Everyone is already proud of him and as long as he holds fast, they will continue to be. I think we all need to hold fast.

Sure, people were surprised, to say the least. But on the bright side, it did erase the rumors that Stan was a violent boyfriend. Now his anger was simply due to his "repressed homosexuality". I'm not sure whether or not that was the case, but he does seem to have gotten rid of a lot of that bottled up anger he used to carry around.

I'm glad.

"Better take a seat before all the good ones are gone!" I chuckle at Kyle.

"Yeah, I made Butters save me one," he smiles.

And this time, there's no guilt in that smile.

* * *

The crowd is roaring when Stan scores the final touchdown of the game. We've won yet again.

I knew we would.

"YES, YES!" Bebe squeals, hugging me as we jump around in happy circles.

"I can't believe it!" Lola cuts in.

"I can," Nichole grins, "our boys are the best players around."

"And we're the best cheerleaders around," I wink playfully.

"You can say that again!" she agrees.

* * *

After the game, we all make our way to Clyde's place to celebrate.

Kyle nudges me with an elbow, pointing towards the center of the room.

Stan is sitting near the fireplace – freshmen, juniors and seniors alike gather around him as he regales them with a tale of how he scored the final touchdown… even though they were all there and it only happened about 30 minutes ago.

"Think it'll ever go to his head?" I laugh.

"Let's hope not," Kyle laughs along with me as Stan finishes his _thrilling_ tale.

Everyone still admires Stan, gay or not. I think that's part of what he feared – losing the respect of the people who look up to him. I guess he was a little hypocritical. He paraded around saying things like that didn't matter, yet it was always something he worried about when it came to himself.

I guess he's fixed that. He realizes things like sexuality really don't matter. People still look up to him.

"Kyle!" Stan grins as he notices his boyfriend standing in the doorway.

Kyle returns the smile as Stan exits his throne.

Hell, I don't remember the last time I've seen him this happy.

Both of them.

Stan envelops Kyle in a bear-hug, mumbling something to him that I can't quite here. Kyle replies softly before shutting his eyes, relaxing in Stan's hold and looking perfectly peaceful.

I don't have to hear the words to know what they said to one another.

"_I love you." _

I feel myself smiling as I slip away, giving them a moment to themselves.

"Ho!" I hear the familiar voice of Eric Cartman call.

I let out a sigh. "That's not my name, Eric."

"_Wendy_, then," he says dryly.

"What is it?" I cross my arms.

"Where are the homos?" he asks.

"Stan and Kyle?"

He nods.

"In the kitchen. Don't bug them, they're sharing a moment."

"Oh?" he grins. "All the better," he says, winking at me before marching off. What a guy.

I roll my eyes, shrugging the maniac off before going to find the girls.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" Bebe wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I laugh softly. "Not much, hot stuff."

"Honestly, though," she says, "how are you doing?"

"I'm good," I say truthfully, offering her a smile.

"Okay," she smiles back.

Sure, it's been a rollercoaster, but I think I can honestly say that I don't have any regrets.

* * *

So, as I've said, things are returning to normal again… or, well, I wouldn't quite say _normal_… but things are going back to the way they should be.

Clyde is still stupid, defending his 66 percent average.

Stan is also still stupid, but I think he's learned from his mistakes. Finally.

Bebe still talks about Kyle's ass. She also wonders out loud how good he is "in the sack" and every single time, Stan respectfully keeps his mouth shut.

Eric is just as vile and sadistic as ever, though, deep down, I'm sure he cares at least a little bit about his friends. I know he played a part in the ending result.

Kenny is still gone, but I think the boys are finally recovering.

And me? I think I'm content where I am.

I think we all are.

Finally.


	30. SM: He sees only me

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Kind of an epilogue-ish chapter. Thank you all for reading (: this is my second story where I hit past 100 reviews! **

**If you all are Kenny/Kyle shippers, go check out my new fic, "Hold Fast" ~ **

**Stan –**

* * *

It's Friday and the day's half over.

"What's that?" I ask, pointing to the book Kyle has in his hand.

"Driving manual," he says, holding it up.

"Oh," I grin. "You're going to learn how to drive?"

"Yeah," he laughs. "I think it's about time I try."

I give his shoulder a little squeeze as we make our way to the lunch table where Cartman and Butters are seated.

"You and Wendy looked like you were getting pretty close the other day," Kyle says in a taunting voice to Cartman.

Cartman makes a face, "We were working on homework, Jew."

"Sure," Kyle says, thoroughly unconvinced.

Honestly, if it happens, it will probably be a good thing. I think Wendy is the only person on this planet with enough will power to whip Eric Cartman into shape.

"We should go on a road trip this summer," he suggests, trying to change the subject.

"That would be fun!" Butters claps his hands together.

I make a face. "I don't know…"

"Ah, come on," Cartman slaps my shoulder, "it'll be fun. We'll drive somewhere warm since our summers suck. The sun'll be good for the Jew's pale skin."

"But I burn easily… I'm too fair," Kyle protests.

"_I'm too fair_," Cartman quotes him in a dramatically prissy accent. "Gay, Kahl. Just rub on some sun lotion. I'm sure Marsh would be happy to help you with that part."

I just wink at Kyle.

"Ah, we'll see," he laughs.

To be honest, I don't want to think too much about the future just yet. I want to concentrate on the present, because I'm pretty damn happy where I am right now.

"I mean, shit," Cartman says, "we will be in grade fuckin' twelve next year –"

"If you pass grade eleven," Kyle interrupts with a snort.

"Jew," Cartman warns before continuing. "Like I was saying, we'll be in grade twelve. We should do something fun before life starts to get too serious."

And that's Cartman for yah. I don't know how he takes everything so damn lightly. Sometimes I wish I could, but then again… I wouldn't want to turn into a sociopathic asshole. I've already hurt enough people in my life.

I'll admit it – it's hard to be around Cartman sometimes knowing that him and Kyle had the sort of relationship that they did. Sometimes I feel a little insecure, and I wonder if this is the way Wendy felt when me and Kyle were together.

I think it's a little ironic.

Life's a little ironic.

Kyle catches onto this and always insists that he doesn't care about Cartman. He sees only me.

I'm glad.

"That sounds like it might be a good idea," Kyle admits, warming up to the idea of a road trip.

"Yeah!" Butters agrees.

While Cartman and Butters continue to converse about possible summer plans, Kyle turns to me. "Come over tonight?" he invites.

"Yeah, sure," I smile.

* * *

At times like this we'll stay up really late, or wake up really early and screw around. Kyle will put a finger to his lips, telling me we have to be quiet and we try hard to be. When we are finished we'll just laugh, not quite remembering what started it.

But hell, I definitely don't complain.

I collapse between Kyle's pale, parted thighs, pressing my forehead into his chest and panting.

I can hear –and feel– him laughing quietly. I look up, resting my chin on his sternum.

We've already had the unfortunate experience of Gerald walking in on us once; we don't need it to happen again. Suffice to say, it ruined the mood. We had tip-toed downstairs afterward, just in time to hear Gerald telling Sheila what happened –

"And there our son was with his legs spread wide open, not wearing a stitch of clothing! Then there was Stan - hovering over him with his pants down to his knees!" he hollered, waving his hands around in disbelief.

I wanted to die on the spot!

Ike was there with them, giggling like it was the most hilarious thing in the world.

"Shout it to the neighbours, why don'tcha?" Kyle asked, making our presence known.

Hell, that was one awkward conversation, let me tell you…

I could hardly talk. I was beyond embarrassed and I think Kyle was too, but he was damn good at hiding it. I'm just glad Sheila didn't kill us. I don't think I would have been able to handle her vengeance. However, she did end up calling my mom forcing everything out into the open.

After the shock of it all wore off, Gerald just smiled, asking me to treat Kyle well. Actually, it sounded more like a warning, but maybe that was just to my ears.

Apart from being caught having sex, my mom and Sheila were glad. They thought the idea of two childhood friends was "sweet" and they said they were "happy" that we finally "made up". I can agree with that part. I'm pretty fucking happy, too.

My dad just gave me a pat on the shoulder and told me to "do what I have to". Whatever the hell kind of encouragement that was…

I guess it's a good thing.

Kyle glances down at me, smiling, "That was fun."

He says it's fun because it's unexpected – one of the few things he didn't really get from Cartman. He says it's just nice to try something new – to be a little spontaneous every so often.

It's been a hell of a trip, but I think we've finally settled things. Sometimes I look back on how it came to be, and I'll think I probably don't deserve to be this happy… but Wendy is always there to give me a slap and tell me to stop being so self-pitying.

"That shit isn't cute," she'll say, "and I bet Kyle would back me up."

I guess I can agree with that, too.

Wendy says that the one genuine apology was enough and that she didn't need to hear any more, but that didn't stop them from continuously pouring out of my mouth… Even now, I find myself wanting to apologize to her.

"I still feel bad about it, too, sometimes," Kyle says, as if he's reading my mind.

"What?" I mumble.

"Wendy," he specifies. "I'm still sorry for going behind her back… for adding to her stress."

"Yeah…" I let out a quiet sigh.

"But Wendy… she's kind. She knows that if she dwelled on what happened, it may give us grief, but in the long run, it would do her no good. It is best if we all try to move past what happened, and if we promise to be loyal and honest. Okay?"

"Okay."

Things change, and often for the worse… but sometimes they change for the best and it feels damn good.

I roll off of Kyle, and we lazily clean up.

"We'll shower in a few hours," he sighs contentedly.

I just chuckle, pulling him close and wrapping my arms around him. He settles against my chest and shuts his eyes. There's a small smile playing on his lips, and I find myself watching him until I feel myself began to drift off again.

* * *

I'm inside him and he's inside me – in my veins in my mind and in my fucking soul.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

**-Fin-**


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